


Fang it!

by chimeradragon



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies), Mad Max: Fury Road
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Gen, Vampire!Max, Vampire!MaxRockatansky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-10-02 02:42:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 30,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17256110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chimeradragon/pseuds/chimeradragon
Summary: Re-write of Fury Road, and onward a bit after.There's a strange raggedy man who skirts towns and stays away from people. Some say he's indestructible, some say he's immortal. He never stays long, haunted and dogged by ghosts only he can see and hear. And there's something more...





	1. Chapter 1

It's not every day he's this close to any type of humanity. He usually skirts the farthest reaches, only going near people when he truly needs something. And even then he avoids interaction as much as possible. The fewer people he's around the less things can go sideways. 

And they always go sideways. 

Every. Single. Time.

There's movement behind him. Something with a heartbeat. He can feel it in his bones. Taste it in the air. 

Unfathomable hunger gnaws at him and he holds perfectly still. He's patient. He can wait.

The voices call to him. At him. Through him they taunt and jeer and beg and whisper. 

Always there. Even when there is blissful silence... they wait. For any moment he drops his guard. Thinks the worst of it is over. The ghosts that haunt him don't always talk. But they are always there.

A slithering motion catches his attention and he shifts his weight subtly, ready to strike as a small, two headed lizard scurries close. When it's in range he stomps it with his boot, breaking the creature's neck so he can scoop it up and bring it to his hand without bending over. A quick hand moves the lizard from the edge of his boot to his mouth, and he quickly bites down. The feeling of warm, fresh meat makes him tamp down on a sound of enjoyment. He chews, sharp teeth rending the flesh as he pulls the still wriggling animal into his mouth in a few, quick bites. 

A rumbling sound grabs his attention and the man turns to the sound of engines coming from behind him and the sun casts shadows over his face where the scruffy beard and scraggly hair doesn't cover him. His nearly black eyes spot the cars coming for him. 

He scrambles to stash his belongings into the car as he speeds off not sure if the newcomers have spotted him yet. But unwilling to find out. He speeds off and for a second he thinks they didn't spot him. 

The wind is doing the raggedy man no favors and whips his dust into the air. Signaling to his pursuers where he is. 

They follow and he tries to lose them. But they run him down. Blow his car into the air and nearly kill him but he's too tough to die in a mere car explosion. 

The men; boys really, look like corpses. Pained and scared. And they drag him back to them. Take him and his broken car. 

Make him run in the painful sun.

He follows his chain. Unwilling to be dragged. Mind readying for a chance to escape. 

A large rocky outcropping looms before them. The one he knew had humans. Something he'd been avoiding. 

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

The raggedy man lost his sense of time in the sun and only really came back to himself as the long hair on his head was being roughly chopped off. It fell in heaps on the floor, though not as dusty as he'd anticipated. His beard had already been trimmed down to a very manageable length and he'd been dusted off, but not truly bathed. 

Long, muscular arms were bound and stretched before him, held by two of the corpse-like boys. A younger boy; dressed and painted like the others, was huddled under the table the man was held against and scooped the hair that fell into a pile. The boy seemed to enjoy his task and made happy grunting noises as he scooped the hair to him. 

"Universal donor," said a goggled man behind the one being held. More to himself than anybody in the room. "Be careful boys. Don' wanna bang 'his one up to much. Valuable."

The sound of metal sizzling in the relatively cool room caught the bound man's attention and he gritted his sharp teeth against the dirty gag in his mouth as he tried to turn and see what was happening. The large tattoo on his back didn't bother him much but the sound and smell of something burning made him flinch. His eye caught sight of a red hot brand coming his way and he reacted on pure instinct. 

"Gonna mark ya as the Immortan's," the tattooist stated with more glee than was necessary or needed.

The bound man whirled with inhuman strength and pulled the boys holding him enough that he was able to break free. He didn't waste any time in rolling to his feet and taking off at a dead run. His feet carried him faster than the boys around him, but he was slower than he should be due to the exposure to the sun, lack of food or water, and the torture he'd already been through. The chains connecting his hands together didn't help with his plans for escape. He stumbled as he ran into walls and down dusty hallways, but he refused to stop. 

To give up.

Even as the ghosts manifested before him. And that was a new trick for them. They had never actually appeared before him. Only been voices before. And the apparitions gave him slight pause. 

The door leading out to a sheer cliff gave the hunted man pause. He flailed a bit but managed to keep from falling. He turned and heard the sounds of pursuit. 

A few moments of hesitation were all he was allowed before he made the decision to screw the burning sun and the boys chasing him. There was a crane hook just out of reach. But if he could jump and hook his chain to it, he might have a chance. 

The shouts of the boys spurred him on a he took a few steps back before running toward the cliff edge and launching himself into the air. 

The raggedy man seemed suspended in air a few seconds before his chain caught the hook. 

He was free!

...or not. As the hook swung back towards the waiting boys and they hauled him in. Shouts and cheers met him and they knocked him out again.

 

TBC...


	3. Chapter 3

He was tied up; arms pinned behind him and ankles bound together, in a small cage that barely held him. He was barefoot and over 20 feet in the air.

And he hated every moment of it.

He glared at the light that seemed determined to keep him from being able to rest. His back ached from the fresh tattoo that was being irritated by the rough shirt he now wore, meanwhile his neck screamed from the burn. Fire was always worse than most any pain he'd been through. He'd managed to scoot around in his limited space to keep his face out of the sun for the moment. He grit his teeth as he heard voices coming down the hall, talking about a "Warboy" that was "running on empty". 

The phrase made him uncomfortable. He saw others that were bound and caged like him. And when the "Organic Mechanics" came in one would be upside down with a needle in them.

The thought of these... people coming to take his blood made him tense and angry. They had no right his body, to his blood. To anything of his. But here they were, getting ready to take it regardless of his opinion on the matter. He growled low in his chest as the bottom of the cage opened, and would have dropped him if his reflexes weren't as quick. He braced himself despite the pain it caused his back and neck to keep him away from these ... people.

"Hey! Be careful!" the Organic shouted as one of the Warboys prodded the raggedy man with an electrified pole. The man in the cage grunted and tried to arch away from the pain, but there was only so much space in the tiny cage for any movement. Let alone being able to keep full control of his muscles as they were harshly stimulated by the pike. The bound man grunted again as he was prodded two more times before he lost enough control to fall; caught by the bindings around his ankles, but upside down. He snarled and snapped at the people surrounding him. He wasn't going quietly.

"Muzzle it!" the Organic shouted with an amused tone in his voice. He grinned as Warboys nodded and got to work without another word.

The hanging man groaned as the blood rushed to his head and made him dizzy while one of them hit him with the electrified stick again. His head throbbed, the muscles of his whole body refused to listen to his commands as he hung limply and blackness clawed into his vision and he lost rack of time.

The next thing the man became aware of was that he was still upside down, there was a needle in his neck draining the blood from his body into a pale; very out of it Warboy, and the bound man's shirt was pushed awkwardly over his head, arms still in the sleeves and hands still bound, but in a position so that his neck was exposed enough to keep the fabric from interfering with the blood line. The metal over his face had him gritting sharpened teeth behind it, angry that these people had decided on such a horrible contraption on his face.

The sound of drums caught the raggedy man's attention; and subsequently the Warboy's attention, as a flood of Warboys scrambled past, jostling each other as the rand back and forth. The raggedy man couldn't see much of what was going on, he was hanging facing the nearby wall, but he could hear just fine.

"What's going on?!"

"Betrayal! An Imperator gone rogue!"

"Imperator? Who?"

"Furiosa! She took a lot of stuff from Immorten Joe!"

"What stuff?"

"Breeders! His prized breeders!"

The hanging man grunted to himself as he listened. It was clear the first voice was the Warboy he was hooked up to. The voice was a little raspy and there was a slight wheezing sound after his sentences. Like he was getting fired up; similar to the engines they all loved so much, and like he was trying to get himself psyched up. The second voice sounded like an old gossip. The hanging man had met plenty in his life. He huffed a little and resisted the urge to shake his head in the vain hope that things would start to make sense. soon.

"Grr! That's my Wheel!" the first Warboy shouted and the blood line moved a bit as the sound of a brief scuffle found its way to the raggedy man's ears. His eyebrow cocked at the exchange.

"I'm driving!" a second Warboy announced in a way that spoke of familiarity with the first.

"You're my lancer!" the first insisted, there was some confusion and hurt in his voice.

"I just promoted myself!" the second grunted, the two were clearly fighting over something, a wheel most likely from the conversation. 

"Not today! Today is my day!" the first insisted even as the sound of a body falling; almost softly, on the ground reached the hanging man's ears.

"Look at you! If you can't stand up, you can't do war!"

"He's right son," the Organic nearby said, voice much closer than it had been a few minutes ago.

"I'm not stayin' here, dyin' soft!" the first Warboy announced, voice strained.

"You're already a corpse," the Organics countered.

"I just need a top up! Some more juice," the first Warboy insisted, breath wheezing slightly from the exertion he was clearly putting into keeping the second Warboy from taking the wheel from him.

"There's no time!" the second Warboy practically growled.

"Then we take my blood bag!" the first insisted. The hanging man felt a thrill of something move up his spine. He was pretty sure he was going to hate what came next. "We take my blood bag and strap him to the lancer's perch!"

"It's got a muzzle on it! It's a raging feral!" the second actually sounded worried for the first.

"That's right! High Octane crazy blood, fillin' me up!" there was the sound of flesh and bone crashing into each other violently. and a body his the ground. "If I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die historic. On the Fury Road."

One of the body; presumably the second Warboy, scrambled right back to his feet. The Warboys panted at each another for a few seconds until some kind of nearly silent agreement had been made. There was the brief sound of growling. "Yeah? Yeah!" the gruff near growl cut through the grunting. "Organic! Hitch up his blood bag."

"Right'o," the Organic replied with an almost lecherous quality to his voice.

The hanging man felt himself jostled, but the people around him were careful to keep from letting his hands get loose or for the needle in his neck from being torn out. The man's shirt was pulled back into place as he was moved to the ground and righted. His feet were unbound as he was dragged through numerous tunnels and passageways until they arrived at a garage of sorts. There was a heavily modified car with a small stand on the front with several spears mounted to it and a place in the back with even more spears. The bound man had a very bad feeling as the workers pulled his shirt back into place and gave him boots again. No socks but that was something he'd gotten used to a long time ago. Socks hadn't lasted long after the end of the world. The man had a brief moment where he lamented the loss of socks but then he was being hoisted up and his arms pinned behind him and looped over a piece of metal that would hold him in place. He felt the chain behind his head yanked a few times as the Warboy was put in the car and the engine roared to life.

This day was just going to get worse and worse.

The sand and grit of the road blew directly into the bound man's face and eyes and he growled as he tried to spit the sand out of his mouth and was only partly successful as the muzzle kept him from being able to open is mouth enough to really get his mouth cleared. And he cursed everything in creation as he saw the stretch of road before him that their car could need to cover to catch up to the main ground.

"Gonna be a very bad day," he growled to himself as he was thrown against the perch while their car peeled out to catch up the the armada of cars that had already taken off.

The bound man saw his car; repainted and modified but still his as their car made it to the front of the group. "First my blood and now my car! How much more can they take from me?!" he snarled.

They sped to the front of the convoy, the shouts and screams of excitement almost overwhelming the sound of the drums and electric guitar.

"Immortan!" the Warboy shouted from behind the bound man. "Immortan Joe!" There was a jolt in the car. "He looked at me!"

"He looked at your blood bag!" 

"No! He looked me straight in the eyes!"

"He was scanning the horizon!"

"No! I'm awaited! I am awaited in Valhalla!"

A hissing noise reached the front of the car and it lurched forward, making the muzzled man grit his teeth more, a snarl plastered to his face as his teeth ached and the sun beat down on him, as exposed as he was lashed on the front of the car. "Confucamas!" he yelled, wishing the idiots behind him had clue what that meant but it made him feel a little better to curse at them. Even if it was in Latin, maybe they'd know what if meant with all the other Latin they seemed to fond of using. He spat what he could out of his mouth as they accelerated beyond the lead cars of the War Party. The wind whipped at the bound man mercilessly as they headed onward to the whooping shouts of joy interspersed with

"Immortan!" the idiot Warboy driving shouted as the car sped ahead of the War Party.

TBC ...


	4. Chapter 4

The roar of the War Rig and the fading sounds of the War Party made the muzzled man look up to see they were rapidly approaching their target. But their target was currently being engaged by another party. One that seemed to think spikes were the absolute height of fashionable car accessories.

"First we get the buzzards off her back!"

The bound man groaned as the sand and wind continued to whip at his body and the car he was tied to rapidly approached the large rig. He figured it had to the the 'War Rig' he'd heard the Warboys talk about when they'd dragged hm through the Citadel and strapped him to the perch on the car. He huffed as he saw the spiked cars getting closer and closer to him. There was a terrifying certainty that he was going to end up impaled on one of those cars.

The air horn from the War Rig blasted twice in quick succession, the driver warning that the buzzards were close enough to be attacked. The Rig dodged from side to side a bit, ramming on of the buzzards off the road, while another's crew tried to board. The Warboys aboard the War Rig fought bravely, no fear in their actions. Even when one of them was shot with bolts of steel that surely spelled out his death, the bound man saw the War Boy pick himself up and spray some silver substance into and around his mouth, then get up and take two of the exploding lances as he shouted.

"Witness me!" the wounded War Boy shouted as he rocked his weight a few times before launching himself into the air to slam into the car right next to the bound man. There were returning shouts of, "Witness! Witness Morsov!"

The car sped up and the muzzled man made eye contact with the driver of the War Rig. His blue eyes went wide in shock for a moment as he spotted a beautiful pair of blue eyes staring back at him. He mentally shook himself as he got a look at a very attractive woman with black grease smeared on the upper portion of her face and eyelids. She tilted her head slightly before gunning the engine and looking forward once more as her crew and the crew of the car the muzzled man was strapped to engaged the remaining buzzards.

There was a tense but relatively quick fight between the buzzards and the others, ultimately ending with the buzzards gone. But some of the War Party had caught up the the War Rig. The fight was a blur of motion, roaring engines, screams and explosions. 

The bound man was tossed back and forth and he tried to dodge out of the way and brace himself for the multiple impacts. He snarled; teeth flashing in the lights of the multiple explosions and burning sun, as the lancer behind him threw several spears that exploded on impact. One of them grazed his head and he yelled at the white painted Warboy.

"That's my head!" the bound man shout

Their car lost a tire but the Warboys kept up their pursuit of the War Rig, desperate and excited to catch the driver and the prizes within. Even as they approached a huge; monstrously huge and dangerous, storm cloud. One of the storms that most inhabitants of the world would find shelter to avoid as much a possible. 

"Fang it!" the Warboy in the back shouted as he slapped the top of the car and the driver seemed to be listening as the car lurched forward, ready to follow the War Rig into the storm. Whether or not the unfortunate man strapped to the front wanted to be thrust face first into that kind of storm. 

"We need counter weight! Get the blood bag down the back!" The driver shouted and his lancer; Slit if the bound man could remember, clambered up the front of the car with speed and and grace the belied the lost tire and way the car kept jerking around in the sand. 

The bound man had been struggling with his bonds, hoping to free himself but he went completely still when he felt the hands on him and the bar holding his hands in place. He let calm wash over him as he went still and lax. The crease in his brow had softened and his shoulders were loose, making it easier for the Warboy behind him to get the pin out of the cuffs that held him tight to the perch. He rolled his shoulders, ready to strike when a bump in the road jarred him enough to let the Warboy yank him onto the hood of the car. He lost his advantage for the moment but prepared for the next opportunity as he looked the driver's blue eyes for a moment, he growled and glared at the boy as he was hauled to the back of the car. The paused at the top of the car, slowly moving to the perch on the back of the car. 

"Hey head, say bye-bye to the neck! Decapito!" the Warboy dragging the muzzled man to the back of the car taunted as he pulled on the chain attached to the back of the muzzle. The bound man had no idea why he was being threatened with having his head cut off, it's was clear he hadn't been able to fight back at the moment. He'd only made a token offering of resistance when they'd been moving him from the cage to the car. He'd fought the Warboys more when they'd tied him to the car but after that he'd been pretty much lax as he plotted his escape. 

"We're going in Slit!" the driver shouted which dragged the attention of the Warboy; Slit apparently, to look towards where the car was headed now. Which gave the bound man just enough of a distraction to spin, roll and kick to nearly drop Slit off the back of the car. Slit held on with an amazing fierceness, hands clamped onto the chain attaching the bound man to the driver. It was a painful sensation to have his head jerked so violently, but he managed to keep from falling off the car with the lunatic Warboy as they rapidly closed in on the storm. As the driver had shouted, the weight of Slit and the 'Blood bag' countered the missing wheel, and the sprang forward. 

The muzzled man rolled over, feet first into Slit's face and kicked hard. The Warboy didn't seemed fazed by the first strike, but three strikes later Slit had to grab onto the muzzled man's leg to keep him from kicking again. There was a brief shifting of weight and struggle as the bound man managed to get the right angle to kick Slit off of him, at the expense of his boot. He rolled and the muzzled man didn't spare Slit another thought as he used the chain to pull himself back onto the perch on the back of the car. He wanted to get the vehicle pulled over so he could finish freeing himself from the infernal metal contraption on his face if for nothing else. He clambered up the back just in time for the driver to slam the sun roof shut in his face and he looked up in time to see they were right on the storm. He could feel the heat and electricity that hummed and throbbed from the clouds and dust. He gritted his teeth again as they breached the outer most portion of the storm. Which knocked the muzzled man backwards; almost off the car entirely, and he was never more grateful to be chained to another human in his life. The driver must have felt the pull and yanked on the chain which helped the muzzled man to regain his balance and bearing on the car. He managed to grab on the the rails on the sides of the perch, even as the heat and wind and electricity of the storm started to tear at his exposed skin. As he managed to get settled in the back he made eye contact with the goggled face of the driver for just a moment before the Warboy turned back to the task at hand, still bent on catching up to the War Rig.

Another car was lifted up by the storm and thrown into the air to be struck by a bolt of lightning. The Warboys on the car were flung through the air, some likely still alive as the storm tore at them and threw them into the unforgiving ground. 

The muzzled man grunted as the radiation burned at his skin in addition to the heat, he was just grateful that the sun wasn't able to add to the mix. The wind and grit and flaming guzzoline were bad enough. He ducked as one of the Warboys was flung past him; crying out in surprise, as the storm raged harder around them. The car swerved from side to side a bit, almost like it was uncertain of it's course and the muzzled man could hear the driver of the car shouting. 

"Oh! What a day! What a lovely day!" 

He's insane, the muzzled man thought, eyes wide for a moment as he looked through the back window of the car to see the Warboy's look of concentration as the dust cleared enough to see the outline of the War Rig off to their right. The Warboy made a happy noise as he turned a knob to pump nitro into the engine and give them a boost of speed, angling to cut off the War Rig. The muzzled man held on for dear life as the car shot forward, boosted to insane speeds. He grunted as he looked through the window again, trying to figure out what the insane boy was planning. 

The storm showed no signs of slowing down as the smaller pursuit vehicle approached the heavy War Rig, the Warboy driving the pursuit car grinned manically as he pulled on hoses and leavers, filling the cab of the car with guzzoline. The muzzled man's brows furrowed as he tried to figure out the boy's next move. He quickly wrapped the chain around his fist as he realized the plan was to get in front of the War Rig and blow up the car and stop the Rig. 

"I am the man, who grabs the sun, riding to Valhalla! Witness me, Blood Bag! Witness!" the Warboy shouted like a mantra. A war cry. He turned to lock eyes with the man holding onto the back of the car. " I live! I die! I live again!" he shouted as he snagged a flare from somewhere in the cab. He sprayed a silver substance all over his mouth as he shouted and lit the flare. " I live! I die! I live again!"

The muzzled man frantically punched at the window in the back of the car. Desperate to get to the Warboy's flare before the idiot could blow the two of them to kingdom come; or Valhalla, with his act of idiocy. He punched at the glass with great fervor. The glass had no chance as the man's enhanced strength aided by panic, self preservation, and the chain worked against the strength of the glass. The window gave way in short order and the muzzled man reached for the flare, but he couldn't quite reach with the chain around his hand. He tried to loosen the chain, but the WarBoy was driving them in front of the Rig. 

The storm's winds buffeted the car and managed to get under the sunroof and ripped it off of the car just as the Warboy moved to slam the lit flare into the guzzoline that surrounded him. The muzzled man managed to reach through the open sunroof and grab hold of the flare. He managed to yank hard enough to keep the flare out of the flammable liquid. 

There was the growl of the engine of the War Rig and the muzzled man had a split second to look back and see the Rig closing in on them. Then the grill on the front of the Rig hit the car and it ... shattered sending the pieces of the car flying through the storm. And the occupants of the car were knocked away from the Rig, unconscious, and at the mercy of the storm as the flare flew far from the vehicle to fizzle out, looking pathetic against the rage of the storm. 

TBC ...


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to recover from the storm and deal with that accursed chain.

The storm had passed, as was the habit of such mega storms in the wastelands. Harsh, vicious, overwhelming and gone in a flash. They decimated most everything in their path before disappearing to catch the unsuspecting; and even the wary, when least expected. The sky was clear, no sign of the storm any longer. There was a lump in the sand where the outline of a body could be seen.

The body didn't move for quite some time. Almost as though the owner of that body wasn't sure if they wanted to keep going or just let the sand take them. The feeling of the sand burying them was better than the winds of the storm, or the burn of the sun. But the need to keep moving... to keep surviving forced the body to start moving.

Sand shifted slowly off the body, revealing the face of the muzzled man. His whole body shivered a moment before he truly started moving. Eyes closed as he pulled his face up from the sand and let the grit and dirt fall from his face and through the muzzle that was still firmly attached to his face. The feel of the sun beating down on his body, lancing agony through his eyes and straight to his brain as he tried to get his bearings, with the sensation of an erupting volcano burning through his whole body. He stood as sand raining down off his previously buried body and stretched his arms out. Trying to get a feel for his unbound hands. He blinked several times trying to figure out what was going on.

The feel of his heartbeat in his ears and pulsing through him brought his attention to the needle still stuck in his neck, taking his blood and giving it to the Warboy. He reached up and pulled the needle out with shaking hands. There were a few seconds of stillness as the muzzled man tried to keep himself from falling over. Between the storm, the excitement, fighting, and loss of blood made him feel like the option of just letting the sands take him was a good one.

The moment passed and the muzzled man knew he needed to find shelter, water, and food. The only way he was going to be able to do that was by getting the damned muzzle off his face. First things first. the chain that was still attached to the back of the muzzle. He followed the chain, hoping the Warboy had been ripped away, but he grunted as he saw they were still attached. And the chain was drawn through the door of the destroyed car they'd been in. The muzzled man grunted as he pulled the idiot Warboy out of the car. He growled as he noted the boy was wearing his jacket, he'd fix that insult as soon as the two of them were unchained. He pulled at the connection on the idiot's wrist, but it seemed welded on.

"Argh!" the muzzled man screamed in frustration as he couldn't get the metal to give way. There was no sign of how to get the damn manacle off. He shook the metal a few times before casting his eyes around for something; anything, to get the damned thing off of the Warboy so he could escape from the idiot. He spotted his double barreled shot gun and he pulled it out of the sand and shook it a bit and watched as sand fell from the barrels. He cracked the gun to check if there were shells, he grunted as he wiped the sand off the shells. An idea sparked and the muzzled man held up the Warboy's arm, gun pressed against the thinnest part of the metal, and pulled the trigger.

The gun merely fizzled out.

The muzzled man grunted, irritated but didn't throw the gun away. He knelt and grabbed the idiot's hand again, pulling and tugging. He grunted as he tried to pull the Warboy's fingers through the muzzle so he could bite them off so that he could hopefully get the manacle off so he could leave the body behind. Just as he got part of a finger through the muzzle a new sound caught his attention.

Bang! Bang! Bang! 

"Hm," the muzzled man grunted; more to himself than to the Warboy, and he turned to look. He spotted the War Rig, parked. He bobbed his head a bit and looked down at the Warboy. He yanked the idiot's boot off to replace the one that had been taken by Slit. The tugged the boot on, hoisted the Warboy up on one shoulder, snagged the gun, and hooked the door over his shoulder as he trudged towards the Rig. 

An image seemed to filter into focus the closer the muzzled man got to the War Rig, women wearing flimsy white cloth, drinking and cleaning themselves from a hose that was pouring a frankly overwhelming amount of clear looking water. The muzzled man's whole body clenched at the thought of all that water and he licked his lips unconsciously as he stood at the back of the Rig, the sounds of ghosts swimming through his head gave him a brief moment of pause as he rounded the back of the Rig. He dumped the Warboy on the ground; along with the door, and aimed the shotgun at the group of women. 

The driver of the Rig had her metal arm off and had been beating the sand out of the air intake, and paused, looking over at the man aiming a weapon at her. The driver glared hard but didn't move, the women who had been bathing were in the process of cleaning the grit off and one was getting what looked like a very strange, toothy, chastity belt off another before stepping back. 

"We're not going back," one of the women; blonde and heavily pregnant, announced with a look that said she was more than willing to fight this man over the issue. 

The muzzled man gestured with the gun for the driver to drop the pointed wrench. She paused, eyeing him and deciding that he was willing to use the weapon if needed, and dropped the tool. Her whole body radiated tension, ready to act at the first sign of trouble. She seemed very protective of the women. 

The blonde shut the water off as she watched the muzzled man with a look that was part disdain, part anger, and part determination. She held the hose that was dribbling slightly like a lifeline, eyes locked on the muzzled man. 

"Water," the muzzled man practically growled, he was a little startled at the harshness of his own voice, but he wasn't truly accustomed to speaking much any more. He'd been away from other people for so long it was a surprise he was even speaking clearly enough for the women to hear him. 

The driver nodded to the blonde after a brief exchange of glances between the two, and the blonde moved forward, steps slow and almost uncertain as she approached. The muzzled man watched the blonde out of the corner of his eye but kept his gaze locked on the driver. She was the one to keep an eye on, her stance and gaze told the muzzled man that she would not hesitate to kill him so she could get these women away from here. 

The blonde finished walking towards the muzzled man and slowly handed over the hose, not wanting to give the man a reason to shoot her, but she locked eyes with him for a few seconds. He grunted and swiped the hose with a shaky motion before gesturing with the gun for her to turn around and give him some space. He kept the gun trained on the women, mostly at the driver, as he managed to get the hose turned on enough to start the flow. The stream was harsh but he gladly gulped down as much as he could for the time being, wanting to slake the overwhelming thirst and hunger for the moment so he could concentrate on what was going on around him. Let him think rationally again before he shut the water off and dropped the hose. 

The muzzled man grunted and held up the chain attached to his muzzle as he looked at the bolt cutters the women had been using to get free of their chastity devices. He gesture to them with a grunt. The white-haired woman started to hand over the bolt cutters to the driver but the muzzled man grunted again and gestured to her with the gun. "You." 

The white-haired woman looked scared as she separated from the dark-haired woman she'd been standing next to, but dutifully stepped forward. As she walked her expression changed from one of fear to one of almost lost confusion, eyes drawn past the muzzled man, as she stepped up next to the blonde. "Angharad, is that just the wind? Or a curious vexation?"

The muzzled man frowned, eyebrows drawn together for a moment, before he grunted and jangled the chain attached to his head again to get the white-haired woman moving again. She jolted with a start and moved to place the bolt cutters on the chain, near his hand, and pulled down in an effort to cut the chain. As the white-haired woman tried to get the chain to cut she ended up pulling the muzzled man down a bit with her, almost as though the chain wouldn't cut. He gave her a puzzled and worried frown; he'd seen the bolt cutters in action just a few moments before, and feared the chain wouldn't cut. 

The driver charged forward as soon as the muzzled man's attention was away from her while the white haired woman had him distracted. The driver tackled the muzzled man and nearly knocked the gun from his hand. She straddled the muzzled man and wrenched the gun from him, quickly turning the weapon on him. She tucked the barrels under the muzzle; and consequently right under the man's chin, and pulled the trigger. The man winced but the gun fizzled out again, just like it had when he'd tried to blow the arm off the Warboy he was still chained to, and the woman gave a wordless cry of rage. She pulled the gun back in her hand and moved to club the muzzled man, but that gave him just enough time to block the blow and move to roll the driver off him. He managed to twist a shove to get the driver under him as they fought and held her down for a moment before the several of the women grabbed the chain attached to his muzzle and yank him backward off the driver. He landed with a hard thump in the sand as the driver surged to her feet with a cry of rage. 

The muzzled man just barely managed to avoid being hit by the bolt cutters as he scrambled back; thankfully the women had dropped the chain when he'd fallen backwards, and he scrambled for the door of the car. He blocked several blows before the bolt cutters got caught on the edge of the door and the muzzled man took a second to feel the thrill of the fight as he used the door to knock the bolt cutters away from both of them. 

The muzzled man grunted as the driver dove at him and knocked him back before scrambling towards the Rig, eyes locked on something. He knew he had to stop her from getting what had to be a weapon, and he managed to snag her leg just as she broke off a piece of decoration the revealed a well-kept handgun. The muzzled man was yanked back by the chain again as the driver dove forward to scramble for the gun. 

And the Warboy woke up just as he was jostled. He frowned as he looked up to see his blood bag fighting with the Driver and the lunged forward to help. Between the War Boy and the muzzled man they managed to trip the Driver as she lunged for the gun and the muzzled man snatched it just as the women pulled on the chain once more. 

The muzzled man snarled as he stood from where the women had dragged him while the Warboy had managed to trip the driver again. He flashed his teeth at the women and managed to make them all take a few startled steps back, wary of the feral man before them. The muzzled man scrambled past the WarBoy and got a hand on the gun, but the driver slammed into him a moment later and kept him from managing to turn around. The two struggled with the gun and the driver managed to get the muzzled man's hand far enough away from the buttons on the gun to throw the clip out and behind the two combatants. 

The WarBoy saw the clip and dove forward, managing to snag it just as the women tackled him. "I've got it!" he still shouted, not letting the clip be taken from him. 

Meanwhile the driver and the muzzled man where wrestling against the side of the Rig, hands working hard to gain an advantage on the gun. The Driver managed to get enough leverage to get the gun and point it at the muzzled man's face as she pulled the trigger, only the lightning fast reflexes of the muzzled man saved his life. Though the ringing in his ear was certainly not fun. The muzzled man slammed the driver up against the side of the Rig, hoping to keep her from trying to kill him again. 

The WarBoy was yanked back by the women and that jerked the muzzled man's head, pulling him off of his feet and onto his face. He grunted as he landed and the driver pushed her advantage as she kicked with her booted feet, hitting the muzzle several times, and the man behind it was a little grateful to have it or his nose would have been caved in. The driver took further advantage and snatched the chain and wrapped it around the muzzled man's neck, choking him out. Dirty hands scrambled at the chain, trying to keep from losing consciousness. He managed to lash out backwards enough to knock the driver off her feet a bit and rolled, the chain whipped around behind the two fighters as they rolled around in the sand and dirt. The driver snatched the hose and smacked the muzzled man enough to make him lean back a bit and the white haired woman yanked on the chain, but she was no matched for the muzzled man who growled and yanked his head forward and rolled with the driver until he was kneeling over her back. 

"Here!" the Warboy called as he managed to get the clip up next to the muzzled man's side, close enough for the muzzled man to bring the gun down onto the clip so he could load the gun. He took a second to cock the gun before firing three shots around the driver's head before holding the hot barrel against the back of her head. 

There was a deathly silence and absolute stillness from the gathered people. The driver and muzzled man panted as they started to come down from the adrenaline of the fight. They panted against each other, a feeling of mutual respect radiated between the two. 

The sound of the drums, and electric guitar, and engines approaching broke the silence. 

"Glory be, Blood Bag!" the Warboy shouted as he rubbed the muzzled man's head. "We snagged her alive! He's gonna shred her." He leaned down to snarl at the driver. "Shred her!"

The driver spat at the Warboy before leaning her head back down to continue catching her breath.

"Bolt cutters," the muzzled man growled, and the Warboy bobbed his head as he scrambled to obey. "Chain." He held a hand up as the Warboy moved too fast for the muzzled man's comfort. The Warboy looked up and smiled as he slowed down a bit, realizing his blood bag was just as likely to shoot him if he moved too quickly. 

The Warboy held up the bolt cutters, catching his own breath as he walked back over, eyes on the women in a way that showed pure reverence. "Look at them... so shiny ... so chrome ... He's gonna be so grateful," he murmured as he cut the chain close to where the muzzled man was holding up the chain for better access. "We could ask for anything. What are you gonna ask for? I'm gonna ask to drive the War Rig."

The muzzled man kept the gun in hand as he pushed the Warboy back a bit. "That's my jacket!" he snarled as he practically ripped the armored leather off the pale boy. 

"You can ask for more than a jacket," the Warboy laughed as the distracted men missed the way the heavily pregnant blonde woman walked past them towards the Rig. 

"We're going to the Green Place," the blonde murmured softly, determination in every line of her body as she moved. 

The muzzled man punched the Warboy in the stomach, knocking him back into the sand before he whirled around and he fired three warning shots, though his shaking hands missed on one of the shots and nicked the blonde's leg around her calf. He took a fraction of a second to note the wound wasn't fatal. Other than hurting for a bit it would be fine. He walked right past the blonde and scrambled into the Rig, ignoring everyone else. They could make their own way. His car and provisions had been stolen. He was exhausted and needed to get away from the group before he did anything else that was unusually stupid. Get some rest. He looked over the group for only a second before starting the Rig and driving off. 

TBC ...


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The muzzle comes off.

The muzzled man drove, a pang of guilt struck him as he left the women and their driver in the dust and sand to be captured by the 'people' that had captured him before. He sighed heavily to himself but refused to stop. He needed to get away from everyone. His whole body ached for something he knew he couldn't have. Not yet. Maybe when he'd had a bit of time to recover and get his head screwed on as straight as it was going to get. Then maybe he'd go back to that place and get his revenge. Maybe even see if the women were still there and help them escape again. If they didn't manage it on their own.

A shudder, shake, and sputter drew the muzzled man's attention to the Rig. It was slowing down. The engines not responding as what looked and felt like a fail-safe kicked in and left the Rig sitting in the sand, unmoving, useless. He growled and slammed the dashboard, flicking a few switches, knowing that it wouldn't help. But it made him feel a little better. A little less powerless. He huffed and sighed as he leaned back in the driver's seat.

She knew it wouldn't go far. That's why she didn't fight him once he got in.

The muzzled man sighed as he heard the approaching footsteps and looked out the window to see the women gathered there. An interesting collection. The heavily pregnant blonde, the crazy white-haired one, a redhead, and a dark brunette, all of them with fair skin. The driver was strapping on her mechanical arm, eyes locked on the muzzled man with a look that held a hint of amusement. She'd known alright, and the look said she only wished she'd been able to see the look on his face when he realized what was happening.

"Kill switches," the driver called. "I set the sequence myself. This Rig isn't going anywhere without me."

The muzzled man thought over the statement for a second before he nodded slightly. "You can get in," he intoned, voice still rough with disuse and the fight. He figured she would be able to fight him off if he lost control, and they had a certain level of mutual respect going on. It could work.

"Not without them," the driver replied with a slight jerk of her head to indicate the women behind her.

"So we wait," the muzzled man groaned slightly as he looked over the assembled women. It was too much of a risk. He couldn't let them come with him. If he lost control, or if his bad luck followed. People around him tended to die. To be taken. To ...

The muzzled man shook his head, trying to clear the ghosts that haunted him. He focused on the group again. He leaned back in the driver's seat. He closed his eyes, trying to keep his mind and body in check. He didn't want to leave them to the horrible fate that was likely coming their way. But he was only certain the driver might be able to survive his even worse luck. He'd seen too many people he cared about killed. Too many people he'd tried to protect ... taken. He couldn't do it again. It was too much already. That might actually break him.

"You're relying on the gratitude of a very bad man. You've already damaged one of his wives .. how grateful do you think he's gonna be?"

The muzzled man grunted but stayed put, refusing to look at the driver.

"You're sitting on 2,000 horsepower of nitro-boosted War Machine. I'd say you've got about a 5-minute head start. If we go now," the driver offered as she leaned in the window a bit, imploring the muzzled man in the hopes that he'd listen to her and help these women escape from their previous captors. He looked at her for a moment, eyes only meet briefly before he looked away, she could tell it was wearing on him. The driver cast her gaze about for a second before an idea struck her. "You want that thing off your face?"

The muzzled man's body went stiff at the mention of the contraption on his face and he rolled his head to look at her, eyes slightly manic. He curled his upper lip at the driver for a second before he jostled the door open, eyes narrowed as the driver carefully kept herself from falling off the side of the Rig and moved to climb inside without setting off the muzzled man, who trained the gun on the driver as he scooted from the driver's seat to the passenger's side. 

"Get in," the driver said, not turning her back on the muzzled man, but not looking directly at him. Almost like he was a wild animal she didn't want to intentionally spook. She had no idea how right she was to treat him like a feral animal. 

The women; Wives, outside quickly clambered inside the Rig, packing themselves into the back seat, keeping the heavily pregnant blonde in the middle, giving her the most protection they could in the given circumstances. 

The driver reached down next to her seat, movements slow and careful as she pulled out a metal filing tool and held it out. The muzzled man took a fraction of a second to snatch the tool and thread it through the back of the cage on his face. He tucked into the arch of the lock without looking, eyes trained on the driver that he knew would be the more dangerous adversary. The muzzled man made a dismissive and warning noise as the driver reached down under the main console of the Rig, he reached forward and found a gun tucked under the dash. He made a sound of triumph as he looked the gun over and set it in his lap, eyes sharp on the driver as she carefully set the start sequence. 

The Rig lurched forward as the driver started off, eyes on the road ahead since most the mirrors had been destroyed in the storm. 

The muzzled man snatched a bag from the backseat and emptied it on the floor, his nostrils flare as he caught the scent of copper and pain. His eyes drifted down to the carefully wrapped wound on the blond's leg from where he'd accidentally nicked her leg. He licked his lips but managed to shake himself free of the draw of the open wound. He took the bag and started collecting the weapons that were scattered all over the cab of the Rig. Guns from above the driver and in the backseat, tucked into various, easy to reach from the driver's seat weapons. Weapons that were within reach of the driver's right hand with minimal movement. 

The muzzled man reared back as the white-haired woman snarled at him while he collected the last of the weapons. He blinked for a moment before settling back against the door in his seat. He readjusted his position so he could rest his elbow on the back of his seat on occasion as he started in with the filing tool to wear away at the lock that held the cage on his face. His hand was a blur of motion as he ground through the metal, eyes scanning their surroundings. He frowned as he realized they were headed towards the cliffs of a mountain range. 

"No. You want to stay clear of there," the muzzled man growled, voice low but softer than when he'd been speaking earlier. He reached out to try and steer the Rig away from the range. 

"Look behind you," the driver interrupted eyes over the man's shoulder at approaching dust clouds. 

The muzzled man frowned as one of the Wives spoke up. "Gastown boys."

The muzzled man frowned, not wanting to turn his back on the women but the need to know what was coming up behind him made his skin itch and crawl. He reached into the back and dragged one of the Wives close, gun trained on her as he turned to look over his shoulder while she grunted and spoke into his ear, "Don't damage the goods."

There was a veritable armada of cars headed their way. 

"What do you see?" the driver asked as she turned her attention back to the road ahead of them. 

"Fuel trucks, big rigs, flamers, polecats ... and the big man himself. The People Eater," one of the other women replied, a note of resignation in her voice as she spoke. "Coming to count the cost..."

The muzzled man sighed slightly as he let the woman he was holding fall back into her seat and redoubled his efforts on the muzzle. Determined to get out of the damned face cage before they had to fight their next battle. 

Then the Rig started shuddering, jerking slightly and slowing down significantly. The muzzled man frowned as he had to let go of the file to hold his seat. 

"We're dragging something out back..." the driver announced after growling in rage, eyes scanning the instruments before her while her eyebrows drew together in concern and thought. "Probably the fuel pod." She moved to set the Rig to keep driving in a straight line and was partially out of her seat when the muzzled man got her attention. 

"No. No. You drive. I'll go," the muzzled man said as he picked up the bag of weapons and moved to climb towards the back of the Rig. The driver nodded as the man moved with grace and speed belied by his braced leg. He climbed up on top of the cab and closed the door with one foot as he moved, noting the way the Wives rearranged themselves to be more comfortable while the man moved. 

The muzzled man dropped the bag of guns into a well on the first trailer of the Rig, easy enough to get to, but far enough away the women wouldn't likely climb out to snag it and shoot him. He pulled his jacket out of the bag and pulled it on like a second skin, feeling more like himself than he had in the days since his capture. He kept working on the lock at the back of the muzzle but walked as he did so, determined to smooth out their ride and get the accursed device off his face. He scrambled down to the hook up and found a disconnected line. He held it up for a moment to see if it was damaged but it looked fine. He quickly plugged the line back in and climbed back on top of the Rig, moving forward in slow, jerky steps as he furiously worked at the lock. 

The file finally made it through the metal of the lock and the muzzled man yanked the lock free and threw it off the side of the Rig with a sigh. The next part was the muzzle itself which the man threw with a look that said he only wished he had time to burn the damned thing. He stood for a few breaths on the top of the Rig and enjoyed his freedom. His brow was tender where the muzzle had been biting into him, but he enjoyed the feeling of freedom and wind on his face. He moved his jaw around a few rotations, getting the full feeling back as sharp eyeteeth gleamed in the unforgiving sun. The man rolled his shoulders and finished his trek to the cabin in time to see the Warboy he'd been attached to fighting with the driver. 

The newly freed man frown at the sound of commotion in the cab, he'd spotted another group closing in on them from the direction opposite the 'Gastown boys', and he scrambled along the side of the Rig to hang on the passenger door. He pointed the gun at the Warboy but lowered it a second later as he realized the Wives had the situation under control. 

"Throw him out!" the driver shouted. 

"You got more friends?" the freed man asked as he gestured over the driver's shoulder to the incoming vehicles. 

"Bullet Farmer. They're coming from the Bullet Farm!" the driver announced as she leaned over the door for a second before settling in her seat again. 

"It's over, you can't defy him," the Warboy taunted, even as the Wives pushed him back into the seat. 

"Watch us, mate," one of the Wives retorted. 

"He is the one who grabbed the sun!" the Warboy countered. 

"Look how slick he's fooled you, Warboy!"

"He's a lying old fool!" 

The newly freed man slid in through the window and pulled the gun bag in with him. He frowned at the exchange, slightly worried and very confused. He'd been away from people for too long, apparently. He had no idea what kind of things these people had been taught, but it seemed very fanatical. 

"By his hand, we'll be lifted up!" the Warboy continued. 

"That's why we have his logo seared on our backs!" the blonde shouted and shoved at the Warboy, the door opened and dangled the Warboy over the rapidly moving sand. "Breeding stock! Battle fodder!"

"No! I am awaited!" 

"You're an old man's battle fodder!" 

"Killing everyone and everything!"

The freed man shared a look with the driver, his eyes wide in shock. The driver's eyes drifted to the freed man's teeth but he didn't notice at first as she tightened her grip on the wheel. 

"We're not to blame!"

"Then who killed the world?!" the blonde shouted as she pushed the Warboy out of the Rig to land in the sand. The Rig continued into the canyon. 

"I made a deal up ahead. Safe passage," the driver announced. "I don't know if it's still any good..." 

The freed man looked at the driver even as he leaned forward to get a better view out the windshield. He stared at her, mouth slightly agape as he listened intently, long, sharpened teeth gleaming in the light. 

"Get back in the hold," the driver commanded the Wives. "Leave the hatch open." The Wives nodded, looks of determination and terror on their faces. They clearly didn't want to go but knew the driver was trying to keep them safe. The man watched as the women moved with grace into the compartment under the cab that led to the first trailer. "I need you here. You might have to drive the Rig," she sighed. 

"You," the man practically growled as something in the blonde's scent changed. She was the last to make the journey to the 'hold' and some instinct was telling him to keep her close. A protective instinct, one he'd been sure had died a long time ago, and he gestured with the gun but made no other threatening moves. "You stay... You stay there." 

"Whatever you do... you can't be seen," the driver added, eyes still on the road. "I'm supposed to be alone. That was the deal." 

The man grunted and then moved to the bridge between segments, he settled in first, scanning the area to make sure it was safe and would fit himself and the blonde. "Down here," he murmured, voice soft as he could make it, nearly gentle as he adjusted a few rags and blankets to make the area more comfortable. The blonde moved slowly, confused at the man's gesture and careful guidance but settled next to him without complaint. He adjusted his good leg into a better seat to keep the blonde off the harsh metal and she gave him a funny look but he didn't meet her eyes, instead focusing his senses outward. He tried to ignore the scent of her blood and was grateful for all the other scents in the cab that were helping to overwhelm his sense of smell. The sounds of approaching vehicles and motorcycles did make it to him. 

"Hey. What's your name? I'm Furiosa," the driver; clearly, the infamous Furiosa, asked. She turned to look at the freedman and he stared at her, expression almost uncomprehending. He blinked a few times but said nothing as the blonde settled against him like a human pillow, bleeding comfort into the man's body. "What do I call you?"

"Doesn't matter," the man replied as he settled, watching the driver and careful to keep the barrels of his guns away from the blonde. 

"I'm Angharad," the blonde offered softly as she let more of her weight rest on the man. 

"Fine. When I yell 'Fool', you drive out of here as fast as you can," Furiosa replied, face serious as her voice held a hint of exasperation. "This is the sequence. One. One, two. One. Red, Black, go. You have it?" 

The man nodded; eyebrows high on his forehead, after looking over the controls again, he kept his mouth closed, gun pointed out of the well he was sitting in. The feeling of so many heartbeats was distracting after being alone for so long. 

Furiosa reached out onto the wheel and got two fingers full of grease that she smeared on her upper forehead and around her eyes like war paint. Her expression deadened as she drove through an archway. A flag was knocked off the top of the Rig just before it came to a stop and she climbed out slowly. 

"It's all here. 3,000 gallons of guzzoline, just like you asked," Furiosa shouted as she held her hands up. "I'm gonna unhitch the pod. You drop the rocks."

The Fool had his eyes partially closed to concentrate on what he was hearing. The sounds of motorcycles approaching and stopping and feet hitting the ground. 

"You said 'a few of vehicles in pursuit, maybe'!" A new; male, voice shouted. "We count THREE War parties!" 

"Yeah, well, I got unlucky," Furiosa replied under her breath, clearly not expecting anyone to be able to hear her. "Let's do this!" she shouted instead, still moving steadily towards the pod at the back of the Rig. 

The tension in the air was thick as the relative silence dragged on. Fool felt a shiver run through Angharad and he placed a careful hand on her shoulder, eyebrows drawn together in silent concern. He felt another jolt in her body, harder this time and she made a weak noise before covering her mouth, eyes wide. He shook his head and helped her back out of the hole and onto the back seat. "We're moving. Stay low." 

Fool was in the driver's seat, punching in the sequence just as the shout from Furiosa came through the open windows. "Fool!" And the Rig was already moving, he moved to look out the rear-view side mirror but turned back to the front as he noted both side mirrors had been destroyed. Likely from the storm. 

The sounds of gunshots rang out as the explosion behind them signified the dropping of the rocks. Shouts and revving engines all around signaled the Rock Riders were on the attack. There was the sound of scrambling and fighting but the Fool knew his job was to get them as far away from the fight as he could without destroying the Rig. He double checked his guns, tucking one away and using the handle on the wheel to make one-handed driving easier. He cocked his remaining gun and prepared for the battle ahead, teeth gritted and eyes sharper than his gritted teeth. 

TBC ...


	7. Chapter 7

Fool's eyes scanned their surroundings as he drove. He noted there were several natural and unnatural ramps scattered along their route that would be perfect points for the Rock Riders to attack them from with their far more maneuverable bikes. And they'd be small, fast-moving targets, much better than the large, slow-moving target the War Rig presented. 

Machine gun fire ricocheted off the sides but nothing penetrated the well-armored shell ... yet.

Furiosa and the other women made it back to the relative safety of the cab just as the Rock Rider's motorcycles came into view. Fool's eyes didn't leave the road for long as he handed over a gun, only locking eyes with Furiosa for a fraction of a second, and there was clearly an understanding between the two of them. He gave a short nod as he cocked his own gun and shifted gears, gaining more speed as they went.

Motorcycles and whoops of excitement filled the air as the Riders closed in, one jumped a rock ramp and landed before the Rig. He turned slightly and dropped an explosive that blew up against the grill, wreathing the hood and cabin in flames. The other women shouted in surprise and fear while Furiosa prepared to fire.

The motorcycles made use of the ramps along the path with practiced precision. They dropped explosive after explosive making Fool and Furiosa flinch from the heat while the women in the back cringed and tried to stay quiet enough to keep their rescuers from being distracted. Fool groaned softly as the flames licked at his skin and he shared a look with Furiosa that said they needed to do something about the flames soon, or he would be unable to drive the Rig, or be of much help in the upcoming fight.

Furiosa frowned slightly but leaned over, Fool was clearly on their side, something had changed. So she did what she could, she leaned over and grabbed a handle at the base of the driver's seat and lifted it. The grill lowered into a plow on the front of the Rig and dug into the sand. The sand did two things for them immediately, the bikes backed off, and the flames were doused. The cab of the Rig got hit with a not insignificant amount of sand, but it was worth it for the flames to be gone. Fool made a grateful noise as the heat receded and Furiosa flipped the switch again so the grill would move back into its original position.

"Thanks," Fool murmured softly, just barely loud enough to Furiosa to hear as she leaned back into place in her seat. She nodded as the bikes took advantage of the lack of overwhelming sand to begin their attack runs again. Fool aimed over Furiosa's shoulder and took out an approaching bike while the Imperator stood out of the sun roof took a few shots to eliminate some of their attackers from the sides and rear. Fool kept up a steady stream of shots around Furiosa, never hitting her. They swapped weapons, Fool handing the weapons he knew were loaded. 

The bikes were now firing at the Rig, unaware if the precious cargo inside. Fool stuck his arm between Furiosa's legs to fire out the passenger window while she finished unloading the rifle clip into the Riders she ducked down and handed the rifle to Angharad. "Reload the clip," Furiosa said, soft but urgent. 

Fool saw the way Angharad seemed to lock up on them, she held her heavily pregnant belly and shook her head. "I can't..." she protested. There was a moment of indecision before the short dark haired woman took the rifle and started loading it herself. 

"Toast..." Angharad breathed, a sound somewhere between admiration and disappointment that seemed to land on this side of grateful. 

"Gun!" Furiosa called as one of the bikes landed on the back of the Rig. Her eyes were wide in shock that the biker had landed so easily on the back of the moving Rig. "Give me the gun!" She called again as she ducked into the cab with a look that was rapidly approaching panic. 

"It's not loaded yet!" Toast countered as her look of determination warred with her now shaking hands. 

Fool looked back to see what was going on and saw the biker pull a gun. "We had a deal!" The biker growled as he started to fire on the cab. Fool turned, aimed and shot the biker through the back window without a thought or word, elongated and sharpened teeth gritted in an unconscious snarl at someone attacking his charges. His people.

The sound of one more bike drew the attention of Furiosa and Fool and they turned in time to see a bike coming from the passenger side. Fool shot out the window while Furiosa shot the flare gun which impacted the rider. But they'd miscalculated and the rider hit the roof, dropping the package that had been in his hands which went under the Rig. As the rider slid across the roof Furiosa looked out back to see what the package was going to do to her Rig while Fool looked out the driver's side. As the biker slid he latched onto Fool's neck, pulling him partially out the window with all his strength. Fool choked, eyes wide in shock and surprise as he was dragged half out the window, he managed to jam the throttle before his feet left the floor. Fool struggled to hold himself inside the Rig as the Rider pulled harder and Fool instinctively reared back and bit into the Rider's neck with sharpened teeth and feral rage. The Rider dropped him with a weak cry as part of his neck was ripped out and blood coated Fool's face and chin while his pupils expanded to cover the whole iris making him look like a vicious, unholy creature as he snarled. He licked a good portion of the blood from around his lips as he moved to allow the grip on him to help him back inside once more.

Furiosa had a hold of Fool's leg and belt and slowly pulled him back in the cab. The women in the back had been huddled together and missed the attack on the driver's side, but Furiosa had seen. Fool looked at her with wild eyes for a moment before he took a shuddering breath and closed his eyes for a second while he moved so he was back in the driver's seat, he rubbed his face on the inside of his coat, getting most of the blood off of his face.

"Sorry," Fool muttered, voice low and face full of shame. It was like he was embarrassed about that part of himself. He put his hands back on the wheel and avoided making eye contact with Furiosa.

"For what? Saving us? Again..." Furiosa replied as she handed Fool a dark colored rag to wipe his face further. It was stained in various colors so the blood wouldn't show. He took the rag with one hand; a faint tremble in the limb, and quickly finished cleaning the rest of the blood. It wouldn't do to worry the Wives.

The sound of joyful laughter and a new engine caught the attention of those in the Rig.

"Now what?" Toast asked with a sigh.

"Schlanger!" the white haired woman intoned.

"Great..." Furiosa replied as she started loading the revolver in her hand, noting it looked like Joe was right behind them.

Fool sighed softly; irritation clearly evident on his face, as he tried drifting the Rig back and forth on the small track without sending anyone in the Rig sliding around. He gritted his teeth, jaw tight and tense as he maneuvered, hoping to keep the pursuing vehicle from getting in front of them. The flames he saw coming from the car had him very worried, one of his major weaknesses, but he had to keep them moving.

Keep everyone safe, some instinct inside of him screamed.

"Rictus!" a voice caught Fool's attention. "The Wives! No more flames!"

Fool sagged a little in his seat, eternally grateful he wouldn't have to deal with a flamethrower at the moment. He looked over at Furiosa and felt his spine straighten, her tension was making him worried. She'd been nothing but collected; if not calm most of the time, and ready for action. "Trouble?"

"Immortan Joe and his son Rictus," the woman with long, almost black hair replied, eyes wide and worried.

"Hm," Fool hummed in response as he cocked his gun but looked at the road ahead and realized he wasn't likely to be using it soon. He was going to be hard-pressed to keep the Rig from knocking into anything at this speed. Their only saving grace had been that the Fuel Pod had broken off and exploded in their pursuer's faces. Not that it had slowed them down much. They were getting ready to overtake the Rig, and Fool was worried about what tricks they had up their sleeves.

Joe's vehicle came up on the right side of the Rig, Joe aiming a gun at Furiosa, but Angharad moved to block the shot, stopping Joe's shot.

"Splendid! Splendid that's my child! My property!" Joe shouted, and Fool felt his skin crawl. People were not possessions.

Furiosa seemed to have the same though as she aimed over Angharad's shoulder, but just as she pulled the trigger one of the Imperators on Joe's vehicle got in the way to protect Joe. The man's body fell off as the car slowed down to avoid another shot.

"Thank you, Angharad," Furiosa said as she pulled her hand back in. The other Wives helped pull Angharad back in the cab and close the door.

"You're welcome. I knew he wouldn't shoot. Not with a potential heir in danger," Angharad replied. "He's predictable like that. His greed." The Wives all shuddered briefly and Fool felt his respect for the blonde go up a few notches. Not just a damsel in distress, waiting to be rescued, but one that needed a bit of guidance to find her way.

Joe's vehicle revved up and he swerved back and forth like an angry shark on the road behind the Rig, looking for an opportunity. It took several seconds before one opened up and he gunned the engine, taking one of the many stone ramps to land with a heavy thud almost on the driver's side of the Rig. He swerved a bit but managed to get the vehicle back under control and get next to the Rig, slowing them down. Fool maneuvered the heavy Rig to get them some space, wanting to get Joe behind them again, and keeping the crazy old man from doing something that might force him to stop the Rig.

The man with the chin support and air tanks in the back of Joe's vehicle maneuvered to what looked like a harpoon, trying to get a good angle on the Rig. Fool heard the sound of something on the tanker behind the cab but decided to worry about the big man aiming at them. There was the sound of compressed air and metal flying through the air, and suddenly there was a wicked looking metal harpoon stuck in between the spokes of the steering wheel. The metal line pulled tight as Fool tried to keep the Rig on course before the wheel gave way and snapped backward to slam Fool's hand against the side of the Cab door.

"Argh!" Fool cried as several the bones in his hand were crushed. His mouth flew open as he cried out, gasping in pain as his hand was crushed hard enough to break the skin. He cried out; the sound a bit weaker the second time, pupils dilating to an unnatural degree as his sharpened teeth elongated slightly and shone against the dirt and blood on his face as his voice cracked. He gasped as the wheel shifted when Furiosa tried to pull it back enough to give him room to get his hand free. His pinkie and ring finger were broken further with a sickening noise and Fool managed to make a strangled noise and he looked away from his hand to Furiosa's face and neck, poised to close to him. He felt a thrill of hysterical laughter bubbling up in his chest at the prospect of having someone that close and not caring that he was so near to their vitals. He closed his eyes as tears prickled at the corners while the Wives in the back shouted and moved to help. Angharad opened the backdoor, bolt-cutters in hand as she maneuvered to cut the chain that was crushing Fool's hand with the steering wheel. The chain didn't seem to want to give for a few moments, and Fool was certain he was going to lose those fingers. 

When the chain snapped there was a skidding of tires and a whoop of excitement from the Wives. Fool cradled his hand, staring down at the crushed appendage for a few seconds in utter disbelief. He noted the way Furiosa dug into the tool box on the floor and came back with a pipe wrench, quickly tightened it into place as a makeshift wheel. 

"Look out!" one of the Wives in the back shouted. 

"The path!" another called. 

Furiosa and Fool looked up in time to see a jagged rock formation directly in the path of the Rig and the two quickly turned the wrench, trying to clear the rocks. 

"Angharad! Get out of there!" Joe shouted, pointing to the rocks that would surely scrape the heavily pregnant woman off the side of the Rig. Angharad looked up with a look of fear but moved deftly out of the way, hanging onto the back of the cab as the rocks scraped up the side of the cab. 

Fool looked back and saw Angharad still holding on and shared a look of surprise and respect. The blonde smiled at him, happy to prove Fool wrong. He nodded to her as she moved to get back into the cab. But by sheer bad luck, the blonde's foot slipped and she was dangling from the back door which had been heavily damaged by the rocks. Fool and the redheaded Wife reached for the door as it broke off, but neither was able to achieve any purchase on the metal as Angharad fell. Joe's vehicle swerved to avoid hitting the blonde and in doing so ended up flipping their vehicle. 

"Go back! Stop and go back for her!" one of the Wives shouted, but Fool stared out the windshield. His eyes were haunted, ghosts appearing before him and leaving him in a state of shock even as he was physically shaken. 

"Did you see it?" Furiosa asked, voice wavering as tears filled her eyes. 

"She went under the wheels," Fool said after a few beats of silence. He didn't look at anyone else in the cab, only staring straight ahead for the moment as he let the scene replay in his mind. Trying to determine if it would even be feasible for Angharad to have survived the fall. But every time he saw it... he saw her hit her head, neck at an impossible angle, and the car's wheels...

"Stop!"

"No," Fool insisted, not slowing down.

"Did you SEE it?" Furiosa insisted, flesh hand on Fool's arm, drawing his attention to her and making him look her in the eye. 

"She went under the wheels," Fool reiterated, voice serious as he locked eyes with Furiosa. He let his feelings show in his eyes as he looked at the Imperator. Pain, worry, distress, and failure. He was driving and should have found a way to save Angharad. he was the one that wasn't entirely human and he hadn't been able to save her. He'd failed. Once he knew she'd gotten the message, he turned back to the road, hand and heart aching with the events of the last few minutes. 

"We keep moving," Furiosa announced as she sank back into her seat, tears in her eyes but not falling. Not yet. 

"He doesn't know what he's talking about! He didn't see it! We have to go back!"

"We keep moving," Furiosa replied, tone serious. "It's what she would have wanted. We can't risk everyone for someone that went under the wheels. She's ... she's..."

"Gone," Fool whispered, the tension in his voice more than his expression or words told the Wives that he didn't want to admit they would have to keep going without Angharad. He'd started to like her and her no-nonsense attitude. Practical but still soft, somehow. 

Furiosa dug around and found a few pieces of equipment to use as additions to make steering easier. Fool found some cloth and pulled on the broken bones in his finger to straighten them out so he could wrap the last two fingers together, giving them a kind of splint while they healed. He winced at every movement but kept going, eyes mostly on the road before them. 

The Rig sputtered for a few moments, the engines smoking and throwing out cautionary scents and sounds as an alarm rang out. 

"We gotta let the engines cool a bit before we can keep going," Furiosa stated as she looked at the readouts with a long suffering sigh. She noted the way Fool nodded his head in agreement as he rested his hand on the upside-down crossbow that was acting as their wheel for the time being.

The Rig sputtered to a stop just as Furiosa was about to suggest they stop. Fool climbed up the front while Furiosa moved to the back to snag water to refuel the coolant tanks. Fool tore off the engine plate and threw it on the ground to give them more room to work as Furiosa stepped up with a jerrycan full of water. The two were stopped by shouting from the Wives. 

"Cheedo! Stop! Don't be stupid!"

"There is no going back!"

"He'll forgive us! I know he will!" Cheedo shouted. "We were his treasures!"

"Cheedo!"

"We were protected! He gave us the high life! What's so wrong with that?" Cheedo yelled, still running. 

"We are not things!"

Fool watched as Furiosa followed the women with her gaze for a moment before picking up the high-powered rifle and aiming past them to a faint wisp of dust rising into the air. 

"No!" 

"We are not going back!" 

"We are not things!"

"I don't want to hear that!" Cheedo cried. 

"They were her words."

"And now she's dead! ...Angharad!" Cheedo cried, voice full of anguish as she was comforted by the other Wives. Fool watched as they gently led the fragile woman with smeared lipstick and long dark hair back into the cab of the Rig and out of the sun. He felt the rays beating down on his neck and exposed skin and was thankful to have his jacket back. It might have been hot but it was still protection. He and Furiosa got the Rig moving again, cooled enough to keep from being stuck. 

"So, um... where is this ... this 'Green Place'?" Fool asked after a few moments, once the tension had died down a little bit. He winced as he saw the haunted look on Furiosa's face, but didn't retract his statement. 

"It's a long night's run, heading east," Furiosa replied, expression still haunted. She picked up a bag and handed it to the back. "We need inventory. I need you to match every gun with it's bullets."

"And how do you know this place even exists?" Fool asked, tone not condescending, only curious. He'd seen and heard his fair share of crazy stories about the wasteland. He'd seen even crazier. 

"I've been there. I ... was born there," Furiosa replied, still haunted, eyes distant as though she was seeing the Green Place in her mind. 

"Why'd you leave?" Fool asked, genuinely curious and glad to see Furiosa coming back to herself, back from the despair she'd been falling into. 

"I didn't leave," Furiosa replied bluntly. "I was taken. I ... I haven't been back since then. To the Green Place and Many Mothers..."

"Sounds nice," Fool offered as he adjusted his bandage and their course. He let the silence lapse in the car as Furiosa seemed to be lost in her own head and the Wives in the back all huddled together. There were several minutes of silence before Furiosa spoke up again. 

"I'm gonna go down and do some repairs," Furiosa said instead of a true reply as she looped a sling over her shoulder. 

"We need someone down the back," Fool stated as Furiosa started to move. 

"I'll go," the red haired woman offered. 

"No! I want you to stay together," Furiosa countered, a look of wild worry and concern in her eyes. 

"I can do it," the red head replied. She placed a gentle hand on Fool's shoulder as she climbed out the missing door, binoculars in hand. "Thank you," she murmured to Fool before disappearing down the back of the Rig. 

"Capable is stubborn," Furiosa murmured before heading to the engine. 

Fool didn't know how to feel about the three remaining women in the cab with him. They seemed tense, almost afraid of themselves and of him in equal parts. He didn't know how to soothe them. He'd never been that kind of person, one able to soothe those around him. He just ... protected. And chased down bad guys. He never learned the fine art of comfort. 

A slim hand touched Fool's left shoulder and he flinched a bit, startled out of his thoughts by the white haired woman's touch. "You don't scare me," she offered, voice soft and wispy. "Even if you do have fangs." 

Fool's eyes widened as he pulled his lips over his teeth defensively. Every time someone had seen them he'd been attacked and chased out of wherever he'd been staying. With the exception of his late wife. No one trusted someone like him. 

"You've got a pure spirit. Even if it is a little ... wild," the white haired woman continued as though Fool hadn't flinched at her words. "I'm Dag. At least that's what I'm called. Don't remember my birth name. Furiosa calls you Fool, do you like that name?" 

Fool felt a small smile tug at his mouth at the almost child-like innocence coming from the woman behind him. He bobbed his head indecisively. He kind of enjoyed the nickname. 

"Well, I think it fits you. You're a bit foolish, but brave when needed. Disregarding your safety for us..." Dag's voice trailed off for a moment and she seemed lost in thought. "I don't mind that you're a blood eater. You won't eat us." 

Fool's eyes went comically wide as Dag sat back in her seat, curling up with Cheedo as though she hadn't noticed or said something no one else had. As though she hadn't shown wisdom far beyond her years and broken Fool's world into a whole new perspective. 

TBC ...


	8. Chapter 8

The sun was beginning to sink below the horizon, making the turning easier to handle as the Rig continued onward. 

"Well," Toast announced as she clanked bullets in the scoop of her dress. "We've only got four left for big boy here, so he's all but useless," she announced as she patted the rifle. "But! We can squirt off this little pinkie a raunchy twenty-nine times," she finished as she held up a tiny handgun that only held four shots at a time. And had to be manually reloaded instead of loaded into a clip. 

Fool felt what little hope they'd all been holding on to drain a little. So few supplies and a War Rig that had seen much better days was not a ringing endorsement for escape. The future was looking a little grim. 

"Angharad used to call them Anti-seed," Dag offered. 

"Plant one and watch something die," Cheedo finished with a sigh of defeat, tone distant as though reciting something she'd said dozens of times before. The cab went quiet, the Wives in the front had settled into a kind of almost meditative silence for the time being. Furiosa returned from her repairs in silence as she settled into the passenger seat, content to let Fool drive for a while longer. She sighed softly as she settled into the seat, eyes drifting half closed as she let her body rest.

A few hours later the sun had finally, fully set and the full moon shone over the desert landscape. The light from the moonlit the desolate landscape in a bright blue, light enough to see without headlights that would have certainly given away their position. Unfortunately for most in the Rig, the loss of the sun also meant the loss of heat as well. Fool didn't seem to notice but the Wives did and carefully lit a warming lantern. It gave off a bit of light, but more warmth, with a base that kept the holder from burning as long as they were careful about how they held it.

The silence stretched on as the War Rig continued through the desert, no one willing to break the silence. Fool could hear the slow, regular heartbeat of one of the Wives who was clearly sleeping, while two more were steady, almost asleep. The last was regular but mostly alert, the beat had a certain rhythm to it. Furiosa's heartbeat was steady, but not in sleep, more like meditation. Fool looked over a few times to make sure she and the Wives were steady in their seats as he drove, making sure to keep any course correction smooth and slow. The cooling air of the nighttime desert soothed the burning his skin had taken over the course of the day between the sun and the sand storm, he sighed softly as he felt his skin repairing itself, and the bones of his hand went from being crushed to merely broken.

A sudden slide of the Rig from left to right drew the attention of everyone in the cab. Heartbeats quickened and Fool frowned, eyebrows drawn together in confusion as he felt the Rig move in ways he wasn't directing it. He looked out the window with a grimace and noticed the dampness of the ground that was pulling at the tires and threatening to suck them off course and into a dead stop. The Rig wove back and forth several times before coming to a stop, tires spinning in the muck. Fool downshifted to first, hoping to get the power needed to get moving again but the tires merely spun uselessly.

"Everyone out," Furiosa announced as she climbed out. Everyone dumped everything they didn't need right away. Spare tires and extra armor on the Rig were dumped. They took the engine plates and put them under the tires while Fool and Furiosa alternated between who was trying to get the Rig going.

They managed to get the Rig moving for a few moments before becoming stuck again. Their goal was to get through the muck and then everyone could get back onboard. Fool took some of their cluster grenades and packed them into their tracks, knowing the following War Parties would follow them, hoping for solid ground. He gave a slightly feral grin as he moved back and forth, checking his spacing of the grenades before scrambling back to the Rig. The sounds of engines started to reach the War Rig, and the explosion of the grenades and some of the pursuit vehicles brought the attention of the Rig's crew.

"Keep moving," Furiosa said as they moved the plates over and over. It was tedious but they were managing to keep ahead of the War Parties for the time being. It was worth the work, even if it was horribly exhausting. When they got the Rig moving they would all snag the plates they could and hang on until the Rig was stuck in the muck again. And again.

Fool and Furiosa's eyes met across the back of the Rig as shots caught their attention from behind. They looked at each other in confusion for a few seconds before the realization that neither of them was driving caught up to them. They pelted after the Rig as it moved a bit before getting stuck in the muck again.

"He wants to help!" Capable announced from just behind the driver's side door.

"Who?" Furiosa demanded as she ran.

"The War Boy!" Capable replied as the Rig started to lose traction,.

"Where did he come from?!"

"I thought we threw him out!?"

Fool drew his sidearm and ripped the driver's door open, gun aimed at the War Boy that had been on the Rig before. The one with Fool's blood pumping through his veins. It explained why he hadn't noticed the War Boy's scent on Capable, he smelled more like Fool than himself at the moment. It had been a lot of blood the War Boy had needed. He started to pull the War Boy out.

"Nux just wants to help! He's a Rev Head," Capable offered.

"Yeah! Yeah! There's high ground! Just beyond that thing," Nux offered as he gestured nervously, excitement clear in every movement of his body. His heartbeat was fast but strong and steady.

"He means the tree," Capable offered as she pointed in the same direction Nux had been pointing with a look of understanding and amusement.

"Yeah! Tree!" Nux agreed, hands up and staying away from the wheel.

"Leave him to me," Furiosa stated as he handed the rifle off to Fool and he handed her his gun.

"Hey, anyone else notice that bright light? Encroaching gunfire?" Dag asked, voice faint.

"Get out!" Furiosa stated, gun trained on Nux and tone leaving no room for argument.

"I can do this! I know this machine!" Nux insisted even as he moved to get down. He clearly wanted to help but didn't want to anger Furiosa.

Fool knelt in the muck, elbow resting on his braced knee as he took careful aim and fired towards the incoming light. He winced as the shot missed, the strange mist of the muck they were driving through made it hard to aim.

"You've got two left," Toast announced, tone firm but disinterested.

Fool took a moment to orient himself, steady his hands and slow his breathing to almost nothing before taking the next shot, careful as he could, but he still missed.

"Cover him," Furiosa ordered, handing her gun off to Toast as she moved over to Fool. Looking to help or take over. She knew the gun he was holding better than he did.

Fool took a moment of aiming, but his hand was still throbbing, he knew he didn't know this gun as well as Furiosa, and he'd been weakened by the transfusion. The blood he'd taken from the Rock Rider had barely scratched the surface of his thirst and hunger, but the Wives and Furiosa weren't an option. He couldn't risk losing control with them, and his body and mind didn't see them as potential blood sources. He sighed as he handed the gun over and offered his shoulder slightly. Furiosa took the gun and steadied it on Fool's shoulder.

"Don't breathe," Furiosa said softly, tone steady as she used her mechanical arm to press the rifle into Fool's shoulder a bit, making the gun as steady as possible. Fool stopped both his breathing and his heartbeat, completely still for a few seconds. Furiosa fired carefully and hit the light, and the noise of the incoming engine and guns stopped.

Fool winced as the gun went off right next to his head, making his ears ring. He almost went down but a hand on his shoulder kept him from the ground. Furiosa gave him a worried look but he shook his head slightly to indicate he would be all right. It wasn't any worse than when she'd fired a gun that's bullet had been deflected by the muzzle he'd worn before. He let his body restart as a shout came from behind them.

"Hey! War Boy! What do you think you're doing?" Toast shouted.

"Gotta use the winch! Around the tree-thing! Pull us free!" Nux replied as he scrambled out of the cab and snatched the winch cable.

"Go!" Fool ordered as he took the winch from Nux and ran towards the tree himself. His knee ached fiercely but he was still faster than a wounded, exhausted War Boy. Furiosa nodded and moved with the Wives to get the engine plates back under the wheels. "You drive the Rig."

Fool groaned softly as he realized he might have to hold the winch cable, there just wasn't enough wire to reach around the tree. He pulled a few times, hoping to get just another few inches of cable when Nux came running up.

"Blood Bag!" Nux shouted, and handed over the length of chain that had still been attached to his wrist. Fool ran to meet him and took the chain, winding it around and through the winch hook. He made sure it was secure before he started back towards the Rig.

And then bullets started flying past as a shouting rang out from the darkness. Furiosa kept one of the Wives safe under a piece of engine plating, and Fool ran back for the tree, narrowly missed getting hit in the process while Nux gunned the engine of the Rig and it started moving. The Wives that weren't with Furiosa; on the other side of the Rig, shouted in terror and ran past the Rig and the tree. The tree started to pull up from the ground, the roots not deep enough to counter the weight of the Rig, but Fool held on, hoping that it would be enough. He heard the engine roar and Furiosa shout with a grunt of effort. Fool was knocked back by an explosion that landed worryingly close to the tree, but he managed to scramble back onto the root structure, lending what weight he could.

The Rig finally pulled itself free from the muck just as the tree gave out, and the crew ran after the Rig, hopping on and holding on the sides as it moved onto the high ground. And they continued on for a bit until the engines whined and the Rig slowed.

"How's are the engines?" Furiosa asked Nux as she held on the driver's door.

"Real hot and very thirsty," Nux replied as he looked over the gauges.

"We'll get them cooled down," Furiosa replied as she hopped down and they all worked towards that goal.

Fool grunted as he moved past them, eyes on the distance. He grabbed a jerrycan of guzzoline, several grenades, and a knife. He started to walk away before thinking better of it and turned to Furiosa, gesturing with the knife. "Hey! You need to take the War Rig a half a click down the track," he practically growled, a glint in his eyes that promised retribution and murder.

"What if you're not back by the time the engines have cooled?" Furiosa insisted, reluctant to leave Fool behind. He'd proven himself several times over as a trustworthy companion, and she liked his calm presence. It seemed to calm all of them.

Fool turned towards the sounds of approaching gunfire for a moment before turning back to Furiosa. "Well, you keep moving," he replied as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. He turned his back on the War Rig and ran off, knee screaming as he went. He made his way towards the sounds of gunfire, managing to keep from getting hit through sheer luck and determination. He set the grenades around the jerrycan, knowing the resulting explosion would disable the approaching vehicle. 

As expected the explosion went off, flipping the car and the moved in. He slashed at the crazy man in the back with the cloth over his eyes. He was likely in charge, but he smelled wrong. Off and not a viable food source.

Fool moved quickly, pulling one man off the ground, half his body had been crushed by the flipped vehicle and he dove into latch onto the man's neck, quickly draining him as an act of mercy. The War Boy; judging by his body paint, barely made a sound as Fool fed on him before dropping the lifeless corpse and moving onto the next. The driver had been killed in the explosion and the leader's head was quickly lopped off. Fool wasted no time with the last two War Boys, biting and draining them as quickly as he could before scrounging through their gear and collecting anything he thought might be useful. He grinned, the expression unnerving with the blood on his face, as he pulled the wheel free and tossed it in the bag of loot he'd gathered. He then took off at a rapid pace, letting the stolen blood fuel him and ignore his aching knee.

Fool slowed down as he approached where he figured the War Rig would be, not wanting to alarm the others and to give his knee a rest. It screamed and throbbed, making him limp. But he was within sight of his goal. He focused inward, trying to get his fangs to recede back into his gums so they were a more acceptable length, and he concentrated on his pupils to dilate them back to normal for being in the desert at night. He shook himself as he walked, pulling the wheel back out of the bag, knowing it would be good to show he was bringing more back than just death.

The sound of a gun chambering a round didn't really reach Fool's mind until he heard the gun's safety switch back on. He looked up briefly to make sure everyone was accounted for before walking right past Toast and Furiosa, right up to Nux. He handed the War Boy the wheel in his hand, slightly amused at the other's look of joy at the gift. He grunted as he dropped the bag he was carrying and offloaded some of the munitions before digging in the bag to toss a boot at Nux who looked like he was receiving the best gifts in the world.

"Are you hurt?" Toast asked, voice uncertain as she watched Fool walk over to one of the buckets hanging from the side of the Rig, collecting a white fluid they'd been using to cool the engines.

"Huh?" Fool asked, mind still not entirely with the group, still partially feral.

"You're bleeding," Toast replied simply.

"That's not his blood," Furiosa replied as Fool grimaced a bit and his elongated teeth flashed in the moonlight. There were several gasps, even one from Nux who had suspected there was something different about his blood bag.

"What is this?" Fool asked; mind not entirely with him at the moment, as he dipped his hand in the bucket and moved to wash his face.

"It's Mother's milk," Dag replied simply. "You might like it."

"Hn," Fool replied as he washed his face and took a couple of mouthfuls of the liquid. It hadn't been what he'd expected, but it was refreshing enough and let him wash the blood from his mouth, which helped with the display of fangs. He could feel his mind returning from the thrill of the hunt as he stood back up and faced the group.

"What are you?" Capable asked, voice tiny with worry and confusion.

"Blood eater," Dag replied simply with a shrug of her shoulders. "I think Miss Giddy called them ... 'vampires' once?"

Fool grunted as he faced the group, certain they would want him gone and willing to leave if asked. He braced himself, certain they'd want him gone. 

"Fool ... you drive for now," Furiosa said as she looked over the group and noted the way Nux looked like a stiff breeze might knock him over. Capable walked with Nux as the War Boy shrugged and moved to install the wheel. Toast looked confused for a moment before noting the way Dag seemed to dismiss Fool.

Fool's eyebrows did an impressive job of trying to eat each other and reach his hairline at the same time as he watched the group accept him. He hadn't been accepted in so long it felt ... strange. Overwhelming. He nodded and quickly moved to take the driver's seat once more. His vision was better at night than any of the others, it was actually prudent to have him drive when they couldn't use headlights; even if they'd had them.

Crows flew past, calling to each other, the sounds almost seemed to mock the group in the War Rig. Sounds haunting as they pass through the night.

Sounds almost like mocking laughter from the universe.

TBC ...


	9. Chapter 9

Voices. 

Hands... and a dragging weight. 

Screams and jeers. Accusations that spoke of failure and disappointment. Fool jerked in his seat, eyes wide and pupils dilated, a scream trapped in his throat as he came up from sleep ready to hit anything in his reach. He blinked several times as his situation made itself known. He swallowed hard, body aching and eyes burning from the sun streaming into the War Rig. He panted for a few moments as he looked around and locked eyes on the person driving. 

"Hey, it's okay. Sleep... Get some rest," Furiosa said voice softer than Fool had ever heard it. 

"Can't," Fool replied as he settled back into his seat, voice equally quiet as he noted the Wives were all asleep in the back, Capable was curled up against Nux's chest while the War Boy watched over her. 

"You need ..." Furiosa corrected herself. "You want to talk about it?"

Fool shook his head, teeth worrying at his lip for a moment. "Ghosts," he offered softly as he let his abused lip go. He squinted against the light of the sun reflecting off the ever-shifting sands. He patted himself down for a second, hands drifting over his equipment before he was able to reassure himself that he wasn't dreaming. 

"I think we're all haunted by different things. You should rest while you can. You've been up all night and we might need you again," Furiosa murmured, voice just loud enough to carry across the cab. "You ... I don't think I said this earlier, but you did good."

Fool felt a flush of pride and welcome as he nodded, tucking his head against his jacket for a moment in embarrassment before he shook himself free. He cocked his head as he looked out and only saw dunes. "So ... this Green Place. You think it's much farther?"

Furiosa shrugged as she angled the Rig to continue following the solid ground they traveled along. "Not sure. We should be there soon."

"Hm," Fool hummed as the Rig slowed to a stop and Furiosa took the binoculars and stood out of the sunroof to scan for signs of life and their destination. 

"There's something out there!" Furiosa breathed with excitement. "I remember something like that! Fool, you drive." There was a ghost of a smile on the former Imperator's face. 

"So, what's this to you?" Fool asked as he took the driver's seat and the Rig lurched back into motion. 

"Redemption," Furiosa replied with a soft sigh. 

"And them?" Fool asked as he pointed to the sleeping women in the back. 

"Hope. For something more. Something ... better," Furiosa answered after looking at the Wives for a few seconds of silent contemplation. And the Rig moved on in relative silence for a while longer, until they were close enough to see a woman on top of a strange tower. The woman was crying and hunched over while bits of glass and mirror caught the sun from where it was suspended, glinting like jewels in the light. 

"Nuh uh," Fool shook his head, eyes squinted against the glare as a shard of light shone directly into his eyes for a fraction of a second and he winced as pain lanced through his body. He shivered slightly but pointed up at the woman on the tower. "That's bait. We should avoid her."

"Stay in the Rig," Furiosa murmured, face serious as she looked at the tower, transfixed. Fool pulled on her shoulder and forced her to make eye contact as he tilted his head slightly in question. "Stay in the Rig. I know what I'm doing."

Fool nodded slowly, he couldn't sense anything and the ghosts were quiet for the moment. 

Furiosa looked in the back and saw that everyone was awake and watching her. She gave a half smile before climbing slowly out of the Rig. She held her hands out, but not up. "I am one of the Vuvalini! Of the Many Mothers! My Initiate Mother was K. T. Concannon! I am the daughter of Mary Jabassa!" She paused for a moment, watching the dunes and speaking not just to the woman on the tower. "My clan was Swaddle Dog!" 

Fool felt an inordinate amount of sweat beading on his forehead as the sun seemed intent on burning him alive. He'd have to tuck in somewhere soon, the heat and the lack of rest ... the sun ... he wouldn't be of much use to the others for much longer. He'd fight through the next few minutes but ... maybe the hold where the Wives had hidden on their way out of the Citadel...

There was a strange cry from the woman on the tower and several motorcycles roared into view. All ridden by much older women who looked ready for battle. The Wives poured out of the Rig as Furiosa talked with the women. Nux stood and hopped down from the Rig and Fool followed, slowly as a show that they were allies. 

"What of the men?" a white-haired woman demanded, hand on a gun while another raised a rifle. 

"They're trustworthy," Furiosa assured them with a soft smile on her face as she looked to Nux and Fool. "They helped us get here." She turned to the women with a nod and a serious look that spoke volumes. "We're safe," she called and Nux ran ahead of Fool to stand with Capable practically vibrating with nervous energy. 

"Safe?" Fool asked as his whole body swayed dangerously. He saw the look of worry and confusion on Furiosa's face as his legs gave out from under him, but he couldn't get his body to obey his commands. His knees hit the sand with quite some force and he felt the pain distantly, fairly certain he'd be feeling it later. The others would be safe. The Vuvalini had survived this long, they would keep the others safe. He could let go, even if only for a little while. "Safe..." he breathed like a sigh of relief. Darkness surrounded Fool's vision as his eyes rolled up in his head as he gasped softly, body limp, he fell face-first into the sand, completely motionless. 

"Fool!" Furiosa cried as she bolted to the fallen man's side. She slid to her knees in the sand kneeling next to the fallen man. She rolled him over, cursing his heavy gear for a second before she managed to get him onto his back. His mouth hung open slightly, slack in his unconsciousness, the whites of his eyes shone from his slightly opened eyelids. He made a soft, pitiful sound as he was jostled. 

"Fangs!" one of the Vuvalini shouted, rifle raised. "Demon!"

"No! He's safe!" Furiosa cried as she threw herself over Fool to protect him as she'd done for Cheedo. 

"Don't hurt him!" Dag ordered, soft voice full of confidence as she moved to stand between Fool and the rifle. "He's a safe blood eater!"

The white-haired woman who'd been looking over Dag scoffed but lowered her weapon. "How do you know? Did you know about that?" she pointed to Fool's teeth. 

"Yes," Nux offered as he moved to kneel by Fool's head, to the side of Furiosa. "He ... he risked everything to save us. From the Bullet Farmer. Could'a left, but stayed. Do ... do you know how to help him?" 

"What's wrong with him?" Capable asked, hands fluttering over Fool's fallen from where he had started to shiver hard, almost as though he was suffering hypothermia, eyebrows drawn together tightly. She bit her lip as she placed a hand on the fallen man's forehead to instinctively search for fever and felt the sweat that was beading up quickly. 

"Sunstroke ... or Sun Sickness," the white-haired woman offered. "His ... kind ... they can't handle the sun for too long. We need to get him cooled off. And in the shade ... away from the sun." 

Cheedo pulled the loose muslin off herself and carefully wrapped Fool's head and upper body in the cloth the help dissipate the sun. She frowned as she realized it wasn't going to do much at the moment, but the look of mild relief made her smile as she looked around for more she could do. 

"Under the Rig!" Furiosa stated as she stood and carefully grabbed one of Fool's arms while Nux grabbed the other. Capable and the white-haired Vuvalini each grabbed a leg and dragged Fool under the War Rig where there was shade from the sun. "We need to fortify it against the sun..."

"The remaining engine plates!" Nux offered as he scrambled to his feet and started dragging one of the plates. Several of the others moved to help, each carefully propped the plates against the side of the Rig, creating a shelter from the sun and elements. 

"Water!" Dag added as she moved to get a bucket to fill. She carefully poured some into Fool's mouth, slowly so he wouldn't drown or aspirate. Fool made a pathetic whimpering sound as the water cooled and soothed his parched throat. His hand moved up to grab Dag's wrist with blinding speed, but the touch was gentle, and he leaned into the coolness of her hands as he drank. She smiled softly and pressed her cooler hands to his face which was red with a horrible and painful sunburn. "Needs rest."

"Hm... we'll talk more later. Just get him settled. We could all use a rest," the white-haired woman murmured as she shot a thoughtful look in Fool's direction. "We can use some of our blankets to fortify the shelter while he ... recovers." 

Furiosa sighed softly as she and the others carefully stripped Fool's extra equipment down to his shirt, and pants. They even removed his boots and brace. One of the Vuvalini carefully adjusted the leg brace before helping to replace it while another helped re-wrap Fool's hand, testing for the way the bones were healing. Fool's only response to the pain was to whine and groan, no threatening motions. He occasionally reached out to hold a limb near him, almost like he was making sure they were all okay. That everyone was still there, and he didn't seem to fully settle until he'd touched everyone at least once. The Wives carefully layered the loose, white muslin over Fool to keep the worst of the light and sand off of him while he rested and his expression slowly melted into a peaceful one. 

As the sun began to set below the horizon Fool started to stir, eyes blinking slowly and still squinting against the light. He made a soft noise as he started to slowly pull the muslin off of him with a look of confusion. He slowly bundled the material as he stirred, mind still muddled as he took in his surroundings. "Wha...?" he breathed, mouth dry and tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.

"Ah, still with us, Fang?" the dark-haired Vuvalini asked as she stood over Fool, rifle in hand. She gave him a crooked smile as she watched him carefully. 

Fool's eyebrows were drawn together as he looked over her and processed what she'd said. His brain was still foggy as the words sank in. He scrambled back a bit, eyes wide and on the gun but he made no move towards a weapon of his own.

"Relax, I'm not gonna shoot you," the dark-haired woman replied with a laugh. "This is just for protection. For all of us. You included. I'm Valkyrie, what's your name?"

Fool blinked several times as he tried to process what was happening. Two groups in a few days that just ... accepted him as he was without violence. His mind whirled as he looked up from his position on the ground, under the War Rig, and covered in various pieces of cloth. He blinked again before shaking his head to clear the fog from his mind. 

"Furiosa called you Fool," Valkyrie moved on as though there hadn't been a moment of awkward silence. "Is that what we should call you?"

"Doesn't matter," Fool replied with a shrug as he frowned and moved to finish uncovering himself and cast a look around. He saw his gear piled up next to him, and the engine plates and blankets that had been used to make a shelter. "Any name's good. Fool works."

Valkyrie laughed and offered her hand, rifle quickly slung over her shoulder. "You want some help up? Furiosa has been talking about you. You're quite impressive ... for a man."

Fool blinked a few times again, feeling like the world was off-kilter but not sure how he was supposed to respond to that comment. He took the hand and was pulled up and out of the hollow under the Rig like he weighed nothing. He frowned as he realized his feet were bare and he felt lighter before his brain kicked in and he remembered seeing his gear. 

"Seed Keeper said you needed to be cooled off. So, we stripped you down to basics," Valkyrie replied with a shrug as she let go of Fool's hand once he was on his feet. "Seems to have worked. You're alive, right? Just no snacking on the others."

Fool sputtered for a moment, eyebrows nearly touching at the implication as he searched for the words to counter Valkyrie's statement. 

"I was kidding," Valkyrie soothed as she laughed again and walked off. "There's rations if you ... want any? Not sure what all you eat."

Fool nodded as his stomach growled loudly before he could say anything, he looked away for a second before he moved to grab his boots when the feeling of his brace caught his attention. He looked down and saw it was a little tighter than it had been before, more comfortable, not too tight, but more supportive than it had been. He took a moment to take stock of himself and noted he felt much better than when they'd stopped. His broken fingers had been realigned and re-wrapped, more carefully than his quick patch job in the War Rig while they'd been driving. He turned to Valkyrie and tilted his head in question, throat still dry. 

"You drink water ... at least that's what the Dag would lead us to believe," Valkyrie said as she offered a canteen. "You look parched."

"Thanks," Fool grunted as he accepted the canteen with slightly trembling fingers. He took a deep drink from the canteen before handing it back over. He watched Valkyrie as she watched him for a few moments. "Food sounds good."

"Don't let me stop you," Valkyrie said as she gestured to his gear with an amused expression on her face. "You can gear back up. Just needed you portable and accessible." 

Fool nodded slowly, still unsure of himself. The whole situation had him feeling like he was on his back foot. Things were just a few steps off from what he expected and it was making his whole world tilt dangerously. In a way, he almost felt like he'd been dropped on an alternate world ... like the old shows had sometimes done to mix things up. Just a bit off from the real world. 

"Provisions are with Seed and the others. Have what you want. From what I hear, you earned it," Valkyrie said before walking off, leaving Fool to his own thoughts. The ghosts were quiet for the moment, almost as though they could feel the Plains of Silence just beyond the dunes. Like they had been appeased for the time being. 

Fool stared after Valkyrie for a few seconds before tugging his boots back. He felt a thrill of emotions that were nearly threatening to overwhelm him as he snagged his gear. The smell of food wafted over and Fool felt his stomach give another lurching growl. There was a pause in Valkyrie's steps but she did not turn around or make any other indication that she heard. He ducked his head a bit before he finished adjusting his gear. 

"Fool, so good of you to join us," Capable greeted with a cheerful smile as she handed Fool a warm bowl of something that looked and smelled a lot like a stew. There was a spoon inside the bowl and Fool took the offered food with a nod. He moved to sit away from the group as they doused the small fire that had been built for the food to be cooked. 

"Thanks," Furiosa murmured softly as she sat down next to him, wrapped up in one of the Vuvalini blankets. They sat in silence for a few minutes while Fool ate like a starved animal.

"What for?" Fool asked after his food was finished and the bowl practically polished. 

"Hm?" Furiosa hummed thoughtfully, mind elsewhere.

"Why'd you thank me?" Fool asked, voice still rough but feeling much better after food and rest. He turned slightly towards Furiosa but kept the salt in view. They were far enough away that the others would be hard pressed to be able to hear what was going on. 

"For helping. Making sure we were escaping. From the Bullet Farmer. You could have just left, or kept what you were hidden. You took a big risk trusting us with that information."

Fool stopped moving or breathing for a few seconds. "It's the right thing to do," he finally managed. 

"Not a lot of that out in the world these days," Furiosa replied with a soft sigh as she let herself lean into bump shoulders with Fool. He unconsciously leaned into the contact. 

"Should be," Fool replied as he enjoyed the feeling of another human sitting with him, willing to be close to someone ... like him. He felt a faint smile tug at his face as the two looked over the barren wasteland. 

"You know, we're never going to get a better chance to cross the Salt," Furiosa stated after several moments of silence. "We've got enough provisions, if we load up the bikes, we can ride for at least 160 days. That should be enough to get across. One of those bikes is yours. If you want. And you're welcome to join us."

"I'll make my own way," Fool said, smile turning soft and sad. "Can't really take that much sun, ya know." 

"True enough," Furiosa replied with a soft laugh. She stood, getting ready to head back to the others. 

"You know... hope is a mistake," Fool said as he stood, still looking out over the Salt. "If you can't fix what's broken... you'll ..." he paused as he hunted for the right words before dipping his head, "you'll go insane." 

Furiosa sighed and shook her head before heading back. 

Fool felt the bond they'd shared shatter but knew it was for the best. He was cursed and everyone he'd ever been close to had died. He didn't want that for these women; not even for Nux, after everything they'd been through. They deserved something like hope. Even if it was a mistake. He took a few minutes to work on his maps as the camp fell silent for the night, only a lone Vuvalini stayed on watch. There was a tugging in the back of Fool's mind as he looked over the expanse the group wanted to cross. He'd been over that kind of thing before. Though the world hadn't been so dried out before. He'd keep watch, let the others rest since he wasn't going with them in the morning. He'd take the motorcycle he'd been given and figure out if the Plains of Silence were truly his destination. Here on the edge ... it felt like he'd finally achieved something. But it wasn't what he'd wanted. Just a detour. 

Just before sunrise, the group woke, slowly, in twos and threes. Quiet hands broke down camp and everyone prepared for the long days ahead. Several of the Vuvalini came over to Fool with words of thanks and welcome. Seed Keeper seemed amused with his awkward inability to come up with a response. She patted him on the cheek, eyes sharp and on the teeth, she could easily see as he sputtered to say something in response, but she only gave a smile before walking off. 

Fool stood on the dune where they'd parked the War Rig; now stripped down as much as possible, and watched as the group he'd helped drove off into the desert. Into the Salt. 

Where are you?

You promised to help us!

To their deaths!

Come on, Pa! Where are they going? Let's go! We gotta save 'em. 

You promised you'd help us!

Why weren't you there?!

You're letting them die!

Why aren't you with them?

Fool shook his head, eyes wide as he watched the dust trails get smaller as the group got further away. He looked around and saw the ghosts that haunted him almost like mirages at the edges of his vision. Until one stepped up, seemed solid, and thrust a hand up at him. He mimicked the action, hand going to his forehead as the image of a crazy person in a mask with blood on them glared at him. He blinked and saw Glory again, she looked irritated at him and he frowned, trying to figure out what he'd done now. The voices were impossible to distinguish from each other as they continued to taunt him. 

Murderer!

Inaction will cost them everything!

What of the babe? Unborn! Not given a chance! How could you?

Fool shook his head and gritted his teeth before getting astride the motorcycle and gunning the engine to life. He knew what he had to do, but dreaded what that might mean. That he might be taking the group from certain death to something worse than death. 

But the possibilities of life!

Fool drove hard, getting in front of the group of Vuvalini, he heard several murmurs of surprise as he turned and cut them off, forcing them to stop. He kicked the stand down and hopped off to face Furiosa. 

"This won't end well," Fool ground out, already feeling cooked and dry. "You're looking for a home? This is your way home. There's your hope." He held out his handmade map with the Immortan's symbol in bright red. 

"What do you mean?" Furiosa asked, eyes full of confusion. 

"What's he saying?" one of the Vuvalini asked. 

"He's saying we need to go back!" another answered. 

"I thought you weren't insane anymore," Dag asked with a look of fond exasperation. 

"Why should we go back? What's there?" 

"Green," Fool stated, voice raised so it would carry further. 

"And water," Toast added as she adjusted behind the Vuvalini she was riding behind. "There's a ridiculous amount of clear water. And a lot of crops."

"As much as you want, as long as you're not afraid of heights," Dag offered.

"Where does the water come from?" 

"He pumps it up from deep underground. Calls it 'aqua-cola' and claims it all for himself. And because he controls the water... he controls all of us," Toast said, chewing on a toothpick as she thought about what Fool was suggesting. 

"I don't like him already." 

"It'll take us two weeks to skirt the wall of mountains," Valkyrie said, brow furrowed. 

"I suggest we go back the way we came," Fool offered. "We charge the War Rig right through the middle of them. Decouple the tanker at the pass. Shut it off behind us." He makes an explosion gesture with his hand as Dag and one of the Vuvalini said it for him with looks of glee. 

"The pass is open. We know that. He brought all his war parties through," Toast offered as her excitement started to build. 

"And how do we take the Citadel?" Furiosa asked, hating to be the one to burst the bubble but needing to make sure they knew what they were doing. She felt her heart break thinking they'd have to go back to where they'd come from, but it did seem like their best bet for hope. 

"If we block off the Pass it'll be easy. There's only his War Pups left, and War Boys too sick to fight. It won't be hard," Toast replied thoughtfully. 

"And we'll be with Nux. He's a War Boy. He'll be bringing us home. Bringing back what's stolen as he's meant to," Capable offered. 

The group turned to look at Nux and he bobbed his head, nodding as he thought over the plan. "Feels like hope."

"I like this plan! We can start again!" Seed Keeper said excitedly. "Just Like the old days."

"Look. It'll be a hard day," Fool offered. "But I can guarantee you, 160 days ridin' that way...? There's nothing but salt. I checked my map. This way ...? Might be able ... to ... Maybe we can find some kind of ... redemption?"

Furiosa shut her eyes against the suggestions and thoughts for a moment, trying to organize her thoughts. When she opened them she saw Fool had his hand outstretched, waiting for her response, clearly willing to go with them to make sure they made it. He was going back into a fight he didn't need to, in order to help people he barely knew. Because it was the right thing to do. 

Furiosa clapped her hand with Fool's and nodded. "We go back!"

TBC ...


	10. Chapter 10

Fool looked over their motley crew. Piled back on the War Rig, supplies re-situated, most in the cab. Weapons had been reloaded. Furiosa and Nux had done a quick overhaul of the engines, various holes had been patched as well as could be expected on such a short amount of time.

Furiosa had adjusted and strapped her artificial back on, and the Wives had adjusted their gear and clothing to be more mobile. The Vuvalini had scattered themselves over the Rig, Valkyrie and Maddie took a bike to run escort. Fool took his place in the passenger seat, armed, geared, and hopefully ready for the long day ahead. He'd willingly taken a bit of muslin to dissipate the sun until the action started. 

Several hours; and a brief dozing nap for Fool, the sounds of engines broke through the relative quiet of their run back to the Citadel. Dag was in the middle of the backseat of the cab, hands clasped then not, making small motions as she murmured to herself. 

"What are you doing?" Toast asked, eyebrows knit together in confusion. 

"Praying," Dag replied with a brief pause. 

"To who?" Toast replied, still confused. 

Dag gave a small smile. "To anyone that's listening."

Toast shook her head before turning back to the tiny, crank powered music box in her hand. It had a tune that haunted the memory of most in the car. Fool had given her the trinket, a feeling like she needed it more than he did had tugged at his mind until he'd dug around in his jacket and found it. He'd been happy it was still tucked inside and not destroyed or taken by the War Boys. 

The sound of revving engines caught up to the Rig, and the Vuvalini got into positions. "Here we go girls!" one of them announced. The rest of the War Party wasn't far behind as a buffed silver vehicle managed to catch up to the War Rig, Fool's eyes went wide as he recognized the modified car. 

It was his and he was pissed. 

"That's mine!" Fool growled, voice low as he pulled the muslin off of him and fired at the approaching car. 

There was a laughing response from the occupants of the car as he moved to get ahead of them. The War Boy that had been with Nux at the beginning of the War Rig's escape from the Citadel was draped across the hood of the car, a bottle of fluid in one hand. He squirted some of the fluid in and flames erupted from the back of the car and it leapt forward a bit. 

"He's gonna try and get in front of us. Spike our wheels!" Furiosa shouted, checking the nearest gun and pressing her foot down the tiniest bit more. She growled under her breath and checked the gauges. Nux huffed and snagged a guzzoline can and started to climb to the front. He paused before Furiosa's open window. "Don't blow my engines."

"Just gonna nudge 'em. Just a bit!" Nux vowed as he climbed onto the hood and sucked some of the guzzoline into his own mouth before blowing it into the intakes of the engine. There was a distressing sound from the engines as they lept forward, keeping the smaller car just behind them for the moment. 

"Traitor! You traitored him!" Silt screamed as he poured more guzzoline into the engine of the car he was on. One of the Vuvalini shot the gunner in the back of the car and Slit snarled. 

Nux shook his head and kept up his job, listening to the engines as he worked, managing to keep from blowing the engines without being able to see the gauges. He listened and backed off just a bit before the warning lights could come back on, Fool looked over and was impressed. 

Suddenly the silver car managed an extra leap and Furiosa had to maneuver to keep from getting hit too hard, spikes were dropped and the sudden impact made Nux swallow some of the guzzoline. He coughed and choked, unable to keep going while the occupants of the silver car cheered. 

Fool growled and climbed out, making sure to keep Nux from falling off the Rig though he did leave a set of punctures in Nux's trousers. "Go. I've got this. Rest and get ready for the next round, okay," he said, voice low but enough to carry to the younger man. He got a nod in response and he gave the other a brief smile before taking a drag from the canister and blowing it across the three intakes he was kneeling next to, and the Rig lurched forward again. 

Slit cackled as he hung off the far side, hands almost dragging on the hard packed ground. He hung there for a few moments before pulling forward to blow guzzoline into the intake and the silver car lurched forward and just barely managed to get in front of the War Rig. The driver of Fool's former car moved to ram again when Valkyrie stood from the motorcycle she was riding on the back of and shot the driver. The now-dead Warboy fell and the car swerved away from the fight, quickly losing speed. Which was advantageous as the warning lights came back on and the engines sputtered, one dying with a cough. 

"Gotta back off! We just lost engine One, Two's about to blow," Furiosa shouted as Fool climbed back towards her to get the news of where they were at. The War Parties started closing in and the crew of the Rig knew this was where things would get dicey. Fool nodded as they were jostled and his nails dug into the side of the truck instinctively. He leaned back to look Nux in the eye and waited for the Warboy to acknowledge him. 

"You a Blackthumb?" Fool asked, voice low and slightly strained. 

"Uh huh," Nux replied as he bobbed his head, eyes on Fool's slightly elongated teeth with only a hint of worry. 

"Engine One, now," Fool said as he handed Nux the climbing kit and moved out of the way. His strong hand helped Nux get under the Rig; after sharing a look with Capable, and made sure the Warboy didn't fall off by accident. 

"We've got this," Furiosa stated as Fool watched her for a moment.

"You're with me," Fool stated as he snagged a wrench and pointed to one of the Vuvalini. She nodded and followed him. "We're going to unhook the tanker."

Fool made his way to the hitch, working with the Vuvalini woman as they carefully remove bolts when the Rig lurched hard. 

"The War Party is here!" another Vuvalini called as she leaned down to be heard easier. "We've got harpoons and plows! Slowing us down!" 

Fool growled, sharpened teeth shining in the light. "Leave three bolts," he held up three fingers for emphasis. "Three!" 

The Vuvalini nodded and got back to work without a word while Fool climbed up on the back of the tanker with the bolt cutters in hand. He growled more to himself as he was followed by another Vuvalini. They carefully made their way to the back and Fool knelt down. 

"I'll hold you while you cut us free," Fool nodded and slowly climbed down the very back of the tanker, feeling a handhold onto the back of his trousers as he went. He reached out and undid the first harpoon's chain, just as another landed slightly below and he growled but moved to dutifully remove that one. There was some commotion behind him and he felt more than hear the command of, "Don't fall. We got climbers."

Vehicles were rapidly bearing down on them. The plows had done their work and slowed the War Rig down enough for others to catch up to them. They had to move quickly or they'd be overrun. A couple of cars were manageable, but this many would certainly bring them down. Fool snarled, fangs showing bright against his dirty, tanned skin, and he could see ht look of fear in the eyes of some of the Warboys. Those that didn't know of him or how to deal with the knowledge. He made his way over to the next two harpoons and made short work of the chains with a sound of satisfaction but noted the War Party wasn't trying to slow them down anymore. The fight was here and he had to get back on top as the sounds of struggle came to him. Fool heaved a small sigh and pulled himself back on to the roof of the tanker. He found the Vuivalini doing a good job keeping the newest invaders off of the Rig. He joined her as another landed on the back, just behind the Vuvalini and Fool knocked the man back and off the Rig with the heavy bolt cutters in his hand. 

The Polecats had arrived, swinging back and forth like demented clocks as they held weapons in hand, ready for the fight to come. Fool had enough time to turn at the sound of a cry of pain. A woman's cry and saw Valkyrie and Maddie go down. There was blood on Maddie's face as Valkyrie stood to protect her, shooting at Joe's vehicle, but not seeing the tanker of the People Eater. Fool winced as Valkyrie and Maddie were run over the by People Eater, and Fool swore that if he got the chance the fat bastard would die. Valkyrie had accepted him and been understanding, and the rest of the Vuvalini had been much the same, to see any of them lost was a blow. 

A polecat deposited a combatant, while another climbed up from the side. Fool just barely dodged a swipe to his head a deflected another with the bolt cutters, barely managing to knock the machete from the man's hand. He grunted with the effort of throwing one of the invaders off the tanker, only to be replaced by another. The ferocity was almost commendable. Fool kept up the fighting as he heard the report of the rifle of the Vuvalini behind him, keeping more off of them. 

The sound of something metallic landing on the cab caught Fool's attention and he spotted a figure moving towards the cab with a weapon in hand. He knew he was too far away to get to the invader and stole the gun from the Vuvalini behind him that had been reloading as quickly as she could. She gave a token protest but Fool had already aimed and fired, knocking the man off the Rig, and dropped the rifle behind him as he marched forward, feeling his blood pumping hot in his veins. The sun was scorching his skin and making his eyes hurt, but the fight was far from over. They had to make it to the pass. They had to decouple the tanker and blow it to bring the rocks down and stop the War Parties from coming through so the War Rig could make it back to the Citadel and claim it for themselves. To see the people free and keep others from being subjugated by people likee Immortan Joe.

Max! Look out! Glory appeared before Fool and raised her hand as she'd done before, prompting Fool to raise his own hand as one of the invaders shot at him with a small crossbow. He was knocked back as the bolt hit him, piercing his hand and embedding in his forehead, and he went down with a heavy thump. 

"Stay with me!" the Vuvalini behind him called as she pressed against his shoulder to shake him somewhat gently. 

Stay with me! Stay with me, Max! Glory demanded and Fool opened his eyes again. 

Pure rage and bloodlust filled Fool as he sat up, surrounded by enemies. Wounded and desperate. He let the rage fill his body as his canines elongated to an unholy length and his nails grew into claws while his eyes turned black, barely any white showing as he pulled the bolt from his forehead and stood. There was an unearthly snarl as Fool saw two invaders about to attack the cab. he charged forward, bolt still in his hand as he tossed one invader off just as he landed and slammed; full force, into another and knocked him over the front to hold on for dear life at the front of the Rig. The invader raised a weapon, intent on chopping Fool's head off as Furiosa slammed on the brakes to throw the man off balance. Fool held on with his claws digging into the intakes and metal of the engine plates leaving deep gouges. 

Furiosa looked at Fool as she slammed on the gas again, making the Rig lurch forward and sending him into the windshield. She looked desperate as the War Parties continued to gain on them, surrounding them with the promise of painful and certain death if they couldn't find a way out of the situation. Find a way to slow the War Parties enough. Fool's dark eyes locked with Furiosa's for a moment before the sound of a chainsaw behind him started to draw his attention. The sound of another invader's war cry had him scrambling to his feet and he snatched the man coming from the back of the Rig to use him as a shield, teeth buried in the man's throat to give Fool a boost as the chainsaw dug into Fool's unfortunate victim. The chainsaw and knife wielders fell from the Rig as it was rammed and Fool lost his footing, hands and claws scrabbled for purchase and he was certain he was dead as he fell head first towards the ground. 

Fool closed his eyes, not wanting to see if he managed to survive the fall or the subsequent tires that were certain to run him over. He could only hope for a swift death if that was the case when the sudden interruption of his fall had his eyes snapping open. He looked up to see Furiosa's metal arm holding on to his leg as she hung halfway out of the driver's window. Her face was full of strain as she held on, unable to get enough purchase to pull Fool back in, but not willing to let him go. 

Fool gave Furiosa a brief, grateful, nod as he looked around to see what he could do to help improve his situation. None of the Wives would have enough strength to pull him up, and Nux was still in the engine doing what he could to keep them going. Fool's back was to the Rig so he couldn't latch on and pull himself up, his fingers were still healing and he claws could only do so much in the middle of a highspeed chase like they were in the middle of. 

The sound of a new engine catching up to them dragged Fool's attention away from Furiosa in time to see Slit in his car driving up, intent on crushing Fool against the side of the War Rig. Just as the People Eater's tanker came up close behind, and Furiosa gave a pained shout and her whole body shuddered. Fool looked up in shock as the scent of Furiosa's blood caught his attention and he felt her metal arm start to give. Furiosa gave a determined look to Fool and managed to hold on, despite the obvious pain she was in. Fool felt torn, not sure how to help in the situation when he was still dangling out the window of the Rig with no handholds in sight. Furiosa drove the Rig closer to the People Eater's tanker as Silt tried gunning the engine at Fool and the Interceptor was crushed between the two vehicles with a shout from Silt. 

Nux had finally reappeared from inside the engine and looked over the tableau of Fool hanging, People Eater advancing, and Furiosa wincing. He took quick stock and the tanker approached and looked at Fool. "You can catch yourself, yeah?"

Fool looked in the direction Nux indicated for a brief second and realized what the War Boy was implying. He was going to kick Fool onto the grill of the People Eater's tanker and get Fool into a better position and out of Furiosa's grip so she could concentrate on driving and not bleeding to death. Fool nodded and watched as Nux timed the shove. 

Furiosa cried out in disbelief and loss as Fool left her grip and she was certain he was dead for a moment before she noted the way he clung to the front of the People Eater's car, claws dug in as he dodged shots from the rifleman in the back. Until one of the Vuvalini took out the gunner. Fool took the opportunity to climb up the front of the car and he tore out the driver's throat with his claws and threw the body away with a careless gesture. He stomped on the People Eater's shoulder and neck, knocking the man for a loop for a moment as he climbed into the driver's seat. He took a moment to slam the bolt in his hand against the side of the driver's door so he could pull the bolt out more easily. He winced at the motion pulled at the tendons and muscles. He threw the bolt out the open window with a grunt of irritation. 

The People Eater seemed to regain his senses quickly and moved to pull up a gun to shoot Fool who only turned enough to bite down on the offending limb and knock the gun to the floor of the car as they sped up and got even with Immortan Joe's vehicle. Joe turned with a snarl on the visible portion of his face. Fool pulled People Eater to cover himself as Joe fired several rounds into the car and killed People Eater. Fool shrugged a bit as he pushed the heavy body off of himself and continued to drive, trying to formulate a plan for getting back to the War Rig. 

Fool winced as he realized the tanker he was driving was on fire. The very thing that could easily put him out of commission. He looked over to see Immortan Joe and grunted as he steered to cut off the madman's vehicle from getting to the War Rig. Another; much smaller, vehicle came up, flames coming from the gunner in the back and Fool cried out as he was scorched, eyes burning with the brightness of the flames in his face, and skin turning bright red as he was burned. He leaned away from the window, mind unable to comprehend a way out of his current predicament for a moment when the sound of an engine revving and the sudden loss of the heat caught Fool's attention again. He looked over to see the War Rig crushing the smaller vehicle that had been tormenting him. 

Fool gave a sigh of relief as the heat receded, he looked over to the War Rig and heard the call of the Wives. 

"She's hurt! She's hurt real bad!" Cheedo called from her position hanging out the window of the cab. 

Fool locked eyes with Furiosa and saw the determination and agony in the other's eyes. He felt his heart clench in sympathy. He could smell the blood from where he was. He heard the sounds of the tanker behind him giving out to the flames that were climbing forward. He took the People Eater's huge foot and jammed the gas with it as he maneuvered the vehicle closer so he could climb out the roof as the flames drew closer. he looked back, felt the panic start to rise in his body as he threw himself over to the War Rig with a desperate maneuver. He could feel the flames licking at his back as he fell through the air. He almost didn't make it, claws managing to catch on the side of the Rig, barely able to stabilize as a polecat descended behind him. He opened his mouth to say something just as he was jerked backward with an inarticulate cry. 

The journey through the air on the pole was jarring and made Fool's stomach feel like it was going to drop out. He clung tightly to the enemy that had him. His claws dug in deeply as they went upside down and his head almost hit the ground below. He panicked a bit and slashed with his claws and managed to drop the pole cat off of the pole, allowing the weight of the engine on the other side to pull him back up just as the People Eater's tank blew in a huge fireball. He turned to see the explosion as he fell back towards the War Rig but fell short, claws making a few sparks as he swung the other way again. He growled as he had to wait for the pole to arc back, and landed him on the Doof Wagon, huge speakers and many drums making his bones feel like they were going to be rattled apart by the soundwaves. he gritted his teeth against the overwhelming sensations. 

There was a cry as one of the drummers stood from his place and tried to hit Fool, knowing he was from the War Rig. Fool snarled and grabbed the man and tossed him off the vehicle before climbing to the front. He had to get to the War Rig before they got the pass. If he didn't make it back he'd be stuck with the War Parties and have to fight his way back to the Citadel. A feat he wasn't sure he could complete. He was already feeling drained and burned from the sun. This fight was taking the last of his strength. He shook himself as he moved the front of the vehicle where the guitarist was strapped in with bungee cords. 

Fool watched as they approached the back of the War Rig and felt like this might be his chance to get back on course. He ducked as he heard one of the Imperators climb up the front of the Doof Wagon. He pulled the guitarist before him like a shield, despite the way the man writhed in his grip. He pulled the guitar out of the guitarist's hands and smashed the incoming Imperator, flames shot out the head of the guitar and Fool winced. Happy the flames hadn't hit him, he knocked several incoming attackers back and off the vehicle before seeing they were close enough for him to make the jump. He tossed the guitar back to the guitarist who had no mask on now; revealing his lack of eyes, and happily went back to playing. 

Fool shook his head as he braced himself and jumped, putting as much strength into the action as he could. He winced as he barely managed to catch the open back of the car wielded to the back of the Rig. He pulled himself up a bit, head over the edge when he felt hands on his leg; the bad one no less, and kicked until the newest invader fell. He watched as the man went under the wheels before he started pulling himself back up. He looked back as the driver of the Doof Wagon gunned the engine with a maniacal cackle and nearly crushed Fool's legs. Fool pulled his legs up with a glare. He grunted as he headed for the front of the Rig, not certain what had transpired in his absence. He moved with a grace that belied the brace on his leg. He was full of fury and determination, with a dash of adrenaline. 

The Vuvulaini that was going to greet him turned with a cry as one of her sisters was being attacked by none other than the brute, Rictus. Fool leaned down and grabbed decorative skull from the back and stormed forward. He managed to lean over the side as the Vuvalini that was engaged with Rictus was thrown but she'd managed to catch hold of the side of the Rig but was falling. Fool used his claws in her coat to make sure she didn't fall to the unforgiving ground and managed to pull her up behind him. He felt a pang of sadness for those he couldn't save but knew he had to do what he could for those that were still around. He watched as another was thrown into the cab with a cry, likely knocked for a loop as Rictus got ready to grab another of the Wives. 

Fool pulled back and launched the cement skull, hitting Rictus square in the back of the head. Blood flew from the wound and Rictus turned to look at Fool with a look of hatred and fury. Fool stood on the top of the tanker, arms spread a bit with his eyebrows raised in a clear invitation to fight him. Rictus snarled as he turned to fully face Fool, arms corded muscle as Fool launched an attack at Rictus' exposed stomach only to be rebuffed by the bigger male's huge hand on his face. Fool opened his mouth to let his fangs dig into the tender flesh of Rictus' hand, blood pooled from the ground and Rictus gave a cry of surprise and pain and Fool took what he could, let the blood spread over his face to make him look like even more a wild animal. After all, the Citadel had put him in a muzzle. Fool grinned, teeth long and flashing bright white in the sun, as he rolled his shoulders for another attack. He launched himself forward and Rictus managed to grab Fool despite the other's unnatural speed and slam him into the cab of the Rig and pin him down. Fool let out a weak cry as the air was crushed from his lungs and he slashed with claws and fangs, only making cuts along the bigger man as darkness threatened to take him under. 

The sound of a rifle going off nearby caught Fool's attention as Rictus jolted. The big man grunted as he turned to face the Vuvalini that Fool had managed to save, she knelt on the back of the tanker, a look of mild concern as she loaded the rifle with a new round, one still in her teeth as she got ready to aim and take another shot at Rictus. 

Fool took the opportunity for what it was and ripped one of the air tanks off Rictus' pack and hit the big man with it. Air poured from the tanks and Rictus seemed thrown off as Fool beat the bigger man repeatedly. Fool slammed Rictus over and over, he snarled as the big man went down, unconscious for the moment. Fool threw the tank, adrenaline running high and he looked around. His injuries called for attention but he didn't have the time to do anything about them. He tilted his head as he looked down at Rictus, he could hear the brute's heartbeat and figured it would be in everyone's best interest if he stopped it. He leaned down and rolled Rictus onto his back and bared his fangs. He bit down, eyes closing as the hot blood rushed into his mouth. He drank greedily as he knew he was short on time, they were getting close to the passage and he needed to finish as soon as possible. He pulled back and saw that Rictius was on the verge of death, able to see the demon that had stolen the life from him as he was kicked from the Rig. Fool felt the blood flowing from his nose, but it mixed with the rest of the blood on his face so he paid it no mind as he climbed up the cab of the Rig to get to Furiosa. Now that he was closer he could start to hone in on her heartbeat and the sound was worrying him. He leaped onto the hood of the Rig in time to see Furiosa face-to-face with Immortan Joe and snarling at the madman. 

"Remember me?" Furiosa snarled as eh hook in her hand held onto Joe's facemask. Joe snarled back just before Furiosa dropped the chain and let the wheels rip the bottom half of Joe's face off along with his breathing mask. But it had the unfortunate side effect of taking Furiosa's false arm with it and nearly tore her off the side of Joe's vehicle just as Fool launched himself onto the back. He scrambled forward, hands outstretched just as Furiosa's strength started to give out. He braced himself and pulled on her shoulder enough to get a better grip on her belts, long nails getting a good grip under the multiple belts as he pulled her into the back and used his own body to cushion her fall. Their eyes met and Furiosa felt a shock of relief at the blue-grey eyes that met her own green as Toast kept the vehicle moving. Fool cradled Furiosa as carefully as he could while Cheedo leaned out the back. 

"He's dead!" Cheedo called. "He's dead!"

The Wives and Vuvalini started their climb to Joe's vehicle. Dag made sure to take Seed Keeper's bag as the old woman lay with a soft smile on her face, gone after the long fight. 

Nux nodded to Capable as she hesitated. "Once you're safely across... I'll jam the throttle and follow you."

Capable nodded slowly, hoping that Nux wasn't just trying to make her feel better. Nux nodded again and Fool pressed Furiosa into the capable hands of the Wives as they started to round the last curve. He looked the Warboy in the eyes and nodded. Nux dropped a rope on the wheel as he jammed the throttle. He winced as he felt the long fight dragged at his limbs. Fool leaped back onto the cab and grabbed Nux, tossing the Warboy into the back of Joe's vehicle, the Wives caught the pale body as Fool yanked on the rope before jumping himself to catch the back of the vehicle as the Rig jackknifed hard and flipped onto its side and landed across the passage, blocking it. Other vehicles slammed into it and their guzzoline ignited. 

Fool felt his nails slipping as hands grabbed onto him and kept him from falling. The sounds of explosions and screams of fury followed him as he was pulled, panting and covered in blood, into the back of the vehicle. He watched with the others as the rocks fell, fully blocking the War Parties. The would have a good head-start. Able to make their way to the Citadel long before any of the Warparties could catch up. 

Fool felt himself drooping as the adrenaline faded from his body and he slumped, unconscious for the moment. He knew the others could handle themselves for the time being. 

TBC ...


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The End! At last! 
> 
> ... aside from an Epilogue. 'cause I'm a sucker for wrapping things up!

The sun was just beginning to set. Joe's body had been moved to the hood of the car, wrapped in white linen so they wouldn't have to look at his ugly face as they made their way to the Citadel. The Wives and remaining Vuvalini had arranged themselves in the cab, getting as comfortable as possible with the limited space. Fool knelt next to Furiosa who had collapsed shortly after he had, and while he'd been left propped up against the side of the vehicle on the inside, as far from the sun as they could get him without anything to cover him with, Furiosa had been laid down, stretched as much as they could manage with cloth they'd scavenged to make a pillow. Furiosa's face was swollen from her injuries, one eye almost completely shut, and her breathing was wheezy and labored. 

Fool held Furiosa's hand in his damaged one, listening helplessly to the sounds of her labored breathing and the way her heart worked harder to keep her alive. He felt helpless as he tried to comfort her. He knew some first aid but not what to do in this instance since he couldn't tell exactly what was going wrong in the first place. 

"Why is she making that noise?" Cheedo finally asked as the Wives sat backward on the seat nearest Fool, watching their rescuers and feeling almost as lost as Fool himself felt. 

"She's pumping air into her chest cavity... collapsing her lungs, one breath at a time," one of the Vuvalini replied, eyes fixed on Furiosa and weariness in her voice. 

Fool felt a thrill of panic at the words. Knowing what was happening helped, but what he had to do was complicated. "I know, I know," he murmured, more to himself than those in the vehicle. He leaned over Furiosa's prone form and dug around in the Organic Mechanic's bag that had been left behind until he found a fairly slim blade that would do the job he needed to save Furiosa. He checked the blade for anything caked on and pressed it against the side opposite the original stab wound. The women in the car stared at him as he moved but none tried to stop him as Furiosa's eyes slid shut for a moment. "I am so sorry," Fool said, voice a little louder, but rough with emotion and disuse. He angled the knife and with a quick thrust pressed it into Furiosa's side with a hiss escaping air.

Fool pulled the blade free as Furiosa took in a deep gasp of air, her eyes wide. There was a moment of stillness as Furiosa looked around her eyes locked onto Fool as she panted for breath. Fool snagged a decent looking rag and pressed it against the new injury. "Press it in," he stated as the Vuvalini in the back nodded. 

"Hey, hey," Fool greeted as he pulled Furiosa up when she reached for him, trying to pull herself up. 

"Home..." Furiosa breathed mind not entirely caught up to the situation. She clung to Fool with her remaining strength. 

"Get... me ... ho-" Furiosa tried to say but she was too weak despite the fact that the blue had faded from her lips. Her mouth moved as she tried to say more and Fool pulled her close so he could catch her breathy words. "H...ome... take me ... home..." she managed before falling limp in Fool's arms. 

"No, no, no, nononono," Fool murmured as he laid Furiosa back down and scrambled in the bag again and pulled out two large needles before pulling the tubing from his shoulder. His hands shook slightly as he prepared the line, inserting a needle into each end. "Keep her awake," he stated to the Wives as they leaned over the back. 

"Exsanguinated... drained all her blood," the Vuvalini behind Fool stated, eyes wide and certain they would lose Furiosa. 

"Furiosa," Capable whispered, almost like she was afraid of startling the dying woman. Hands descended on Furiosa as Dag moved next to Fool. Furiosa's eyes fluttered but did not open. 

"Here, hold this," Fool said as he handed one end of the tubing to Dag and pressed the other into his own arm. He watched as his blood started to flow into the tube and help Dag hold it up until the tube was full before pressing it into Furiosa's arm. "I'm sorry. Shh, there you go... you'll be all right..." 

The Vuvalini in the back pressed her hands over the needle in Fool's arm to hold it steady while Dag moved to hold the one in Furiosa's with delicate hands. There was a moment where no one breathed before Furiosa stirred a bit. 

"Max," Fool stated in the quiet, leaning over Furiosa, hoping he might give her something to hold onto. She'd saved the Wives, and now they were headed to the Citadel with the remaining women from her childhood to make the world a better place for those that were left. They'd gotten rid of Immortan Joe and his reign of terror would start to crumble. "My name is Max... hm... That's my name," he reiterated and there was no movement at all for a moment before Furiosa's lips curled into a small smile. 

"Max?" Dag asked, eyes wide as she continued to hold the needle in place. 

Fool... Max grunted as he bobbed his head, a faint tinge of color on his cheeks. He didn't know why he'd kept his name from them. Mostly because he didn't want them getting attached, he would leave them soon enough. More for their sake than his own. He felt like a curse on all that knew him, but maybe, maybe something new was happening. He'd helped rather than dragged down. 

"I like it," Capable stated as she leaned back on the bench and into Nux's side. The Warboy's eyes were wide as he took in everything like it was new. And it might be new in his mind. He wasn't truly a Warboy any more. Immortan Joe was dead, proven to be a false god, a mortal man. 

"Guess I can't call you 'blood bag' anymore, can I?" Nux chuckled, he watched as Max rolled his eyes but gave an affectionate smile. 

"Yeah," Max replied as he moved to sit back against the side of the vehicle, body exhausted. He felt like a puppet that's strings had been cut. "Keep it in her arm. I can handle it. I'm ... just gonna rest ... a minute..." Max stated as his eyes fluttered shut against his will. 

"We'll keep watch," the Vuvalini that was holding Max's arm stated as she watched him drift off. 

***

Near midday Max awoke feeling like he'd been run over by a truck; or ten, his arm hurt, his head felt stuffed full of cotton, but the ghosts weren't haunting him. He blinked his eyes open against the glare of the sun to find himself still in Immortan Joe's vehicle, no needle in his arm now. And the others were murmuring about how they should approach. 

"Hn," Max grunted, letting the others know he was back among the living. He moved and felt like his body was on fire as his stomach clenched hard. He'd need food, water, and possibly blood soon. But he would endure for the time being. 

"Look who's awake," Toast stated as she looked over the back seat. "Welcome back."

"Hm," Max hummed, not really wanting to open his mouth and take the effort to form actual words. 

"We're just discussing how we should approach the Citadel. We're in Joe's vehicle, and we have Nux... but what then?" Furiosa asked from her place propped up against the opposite side of the back seat. She looked much better, her swollen eye didn't look as angry, her stab wounds had been bound up and cinched with her belts, and her color was much better. 

"I'll drive. In case someone wants to start shooting. You should be in the front with me ... and Nux. That should stave off any shots, yes?" Max asked, thinking strategically. Furiosa had been the only woman he'd seen driving through all of the War Parties, and his time chained up in the cage for the Organic Mechanic. 

"Sounds good. You gonna climb out and show them Joe's body?" Toast asked as she looked over to Nux. The Warboy still had a haunted look on his face and he shook his head. 

"I'll do it," Max offered as he patted Nux's shoulder. "Better that way."

"If you say so," Toast replied before shuffling into the back of the vehicle, the other Wives followed suit, Capable stayed right behind Nux while Max and the Vuvalini switched spots with only a slight hesitation in their speed. Furiosa was last to crawling to the front and she settled, leaning slightly against Max. He gave her a soft smile and made sure she was comfortable. 

Max slowed them down as they approached, not wanting to run anyone over. The sounds of drums started up as the platform that was used to lift and lower vehicles started to descend with two masked men on it. Max pulled to a stop a short distance from where the platform would rest once it was at ground level. The platform stopped shortly after he did and he nodded to the others. "Here we go," he murmured quietly. 

"Reveal yourself!" one of the masked men on the platform demanded as he held a quad-barreled gun towards the driver's seat. 

Max nodded and slowly opened the door, not hopping down onto the ground but moving onto the hood. He kept his hands raised as he moved to straddle the swathed bundle on the hood, watching for any signs that he was about to be shot as murmurs moved through the crowd. Curiosity as to who he was and what he had. He reached down and grabbed an edge of the cloth before standing and tearing it away, letting go of the cloth with a defiant look on his face as he revealed the obviously dead body of Immortan Joe. He leaned back and put his hands back up as a gasp of surprise went through the crowd. The masked men looked at each other, not sure how to proceed. 

"It's Immortan Joe," one of the masked men murmured, his voice carried enough for someone in the crowd to catch it. 

"Immortan Joe is DEAD!" came a shout from the crowd around the car. Max took a moment to flip the body onto the ground and let Joe's subjects have at him. A group of them descended like vultures, tearing at Joe's body and taking parts of his armor, medals, and limbs. Max looked away, letting them have their victory. 

The Wives stood up in the back of the Vehicle and Nux looked up the War Pups assembled and waved to them with a sheepish look. There was a murmur from the War Pups to see a Warboy with the Wives and the dead body of Immortan Joe, looking better than they could have expected. Helping these people that had taken out their 'benefactor'. 

Max leaned over and help Furiosa out of the car, he held onto her belts as she clung to him, still weak from the fight and loss of blood but doing much better after the transfusion. She stood on shaky legs before turning to look up, an expectant look on her face that demanded she be let up. 

"Furiosa!" came a chant from the gathered crowd. 

"Let them up! Let them up!" came a new chant and there was hesitation before some fo the War Pups jumped into action and started lowering the platform once more. As soon as the platform hit the ground the Vuvalini in the driver's seat rolled them forward and parked on the platform. 

There was a cheer from the crowd as dozens of people crammed onto the platform as it started to rise. Nux and Capable helped people on from one side while the other Wives helped on other sides. Max stood with Furiosa, making sure she was stable as the lift moved. There was a sense of hope as the sound of rushing water reached them and part of the crowd moved to where the water was gushing out of the side of one of the towers. 

Max felt a twinge of regret as he carefully made his way out from under Furiosa's arm and scaled down one of the ropes hanging from the platform. He knew he couldn't go up with the rest of the group as close as they would be to the sun, and no shade. He needed to find someplace away from the crush of humanity so he could recover enough as his body cried out for sustenance. He carefully made his way through the crowd, looking up to catch Furiosa's eye as he moved. The two locked eyes for several moments and he nodded to her. A nod of respect and hope, and confidence that the Citadel would be in good hands. Between the Vuvalini, the Wives, and the lessons that had been learned. 

Max turned away as Furiosa disappeared from view and the crowd parted enough for him to make his way to the edges. He spotted a part in one of the stone towers and headed for it. It would be good enough for him to wait out the sun before moving on. 

Maybe he'd tell people of the Citadel when he came across them on his journey to find his own redemption. 

END


	12. Chapter 12

Max was disoriented, his eyes barely slit open as he tried to figure out what was making his senses go crazy. His whole body had the afterimage of being sore, like when he'd been in a particularly bad fight and had to spend a few days recovering. But this time the fight was hazy. And there was something ... familiar about where he was. A scent? Maybe a sound? He couldn't quite place whatever it was that had his teeth on edge. 

"I think he's awake!" a female voice called from a short distance away. 

Max groaned, certain it was just the ghosts that haunted him, taunting him into wakefulness. 

"Max?" a different female voice asked. There was a hand on his shoulder. "Fool? Are you still with us?"

Max snorted a bit; probably too quiet for whoever was talking to him to hear and turned his head to the side a bit. He blinked his eyes open a bit and felt a sense of relief the sun wasn't beating down on him. There was the dull glow of candles and the coolness of a cave that made his body relax further into the bed he was on. His eyes refused to focus for a moment before the image before him resolved into Furiosa. Max grunted and tilted his head as he realized she looked healed and healthy. 

"It's been a while," Furiosa stated with a small smile on her face. "We thought we'd lost you when you were found. Buried in a cave at the foot of the Citadel. Apparently, when you decided to pass out you picked the wrong spot. Had to dig you out. Took us the better part of two hours."

"How long...?" Max asked, voice and throat rough with disuse. 

New hands came into view holding a canteen. Max turned his eyes to spot Cheedo and gave her a small, grateful smile. He took a drink, slowly moving to sit up. 

"We thought you'd left more than 37 days ago. I guess you needed the rest," Furiosa replied, eyebrows drawn together as she moved to help Max sit up. "You've been unconscious since we found you five days ago. Luckily you let us feed you."

Max's eyes went wide at the mention of 'feeding' him. He looked over the women before him, eyes scanning for marks. 

"Water, mother's milk, greens," Cheedo assured Max with a light laugh. "We did get some ... donations."

Max pulled himself to lean against the wall behind the head of the bed, concern written on his features. "Did I ... hurt anyone?"

"No. You didn't. We actually had a hell of a time getting you to drink the offered blood," Furiosa laughed as she stood and adjusted her new metal arm. This one was similar to the one she'd had before but was less suited for combat, no hook on any of the fingers. 

"Oh," Max murmured, he looked over himself and realized he was dressed like he'd been when they'd stopped the War Rig at the Plains of Silence. He raised an eyebrow as he looked over at Furiosa. 

"Your gear is all here," Furiosa stated as she pointed to a pile of gear, washed, cleaned, and organized with an extra bag. "Didn't know if you'd be wanting to stay or not. The War Parties finally all made it here. But no one wanted to fight anymore. There were heavy losses in the Pass. So, we've come to a kind of peace. The War Boys have gone to the Bullet Farm, Gas Town, and some have stayed here. We're doing better. Came up with a better delivery for the water so we don't run out or waste as much." 

"Sounds good," Max agreed as he bobbed his head. He frowned a moment as he realized he didn't feel gritty, and Furiosa had mentioned he'd been buried. "Who cleaned me?" 

"I did!" Nux offered as he walked into the room. He still had all of his scars, but he was a much healthier color, a light tan. His hair had started to grow back in, a dark color, and his eyes sparkled with life. He had on his usual trousers but had included a simple shirt. "I thought it was the least I could do."

"For what?" Max asked, still trying to process everything that had happened in a month. 

"Larry and Barry!" Nux replied as he pointed to his shoulder where the two lumps had been. There was a bit of distorted flesh, but the large lumps that had made Nux's life so difficult were shrinking. "Somethin' in that high octane blood 'o yours! Got me feelin' shiny again."

Max frowned as he looked closer. The War Boy did look much healthier but no signs of anything unusual. "Better?" 

"Me too," Furiosa added. "My bruises were gone in a matter of days. Apparently, your blood is better than advertised."

Max frowned more. "I've ... never given that much. Always worried about the consequences."

"How does one become like you?" Cheedo asked as she sat on a nearby chair. She leaned forward, genuinely curious. 

"Dunno... born to it," Max replied with a shrug as he crossed his legs to better lean against the wall. "But there's old tales that say different." 

"Stories," Furiosa replied with a dismissive wave. "Well, Nux and I can attest that your blood is safe enough for a transfusion. So, what do you want to do now? You could make this your home."

"Hm," Max hummed thoughtfully. He wasn't sure if it would be wise to make a home here. His bad luck could follow, but it was something. "Wanna be movin'. Don't like stayin' in one place too long."

"You can always come back," Nux offered. "We got the remains of your car. Been fixin' it up. Lookin' real chrome. Thought it might be good luck. So you can leave and come back when you like."

"You can make this your home," Cheedo implored, looking earnest. 

"A place to come home to is a powerful thing," Furiosa offered with a knowing look in her eyes. 

"Home..." Max replied as he closed his eyes and nodded. "Sounds good."

END


End file.
